Skip to main content

Full text of "A Pepysian garland : black-letter broadside ballads of the years 1595-1639, chiefly from the collection of Samuel Pepys"

See other formats






C.  F.  CLAY,  Manager 

LONDON    :   FETTER  LANE,  E.C.  4 


BOMBAY       ) 


MADRAS      j 


CANADA,  Ltd. 



OF  THE  YEARS  I  595-1 639 





I  n  ^  '^  (p_5_ 

)  :^   1 1)  •'2-  ^ 







PERHAPS  the  most  important  of  all  the  treasures — 
apart  from  the  inimitable  Diary — in  the  library  be- 
queathed by  Samuel  Pepys  to  Magdalene  College,  Cam- 
bridge, is  his  collection  of  broadside  ballads.  These  were 
grouped  loosely  according  to  subject-matter  and  provided 
with  title-pages  and  descriptive  headings  in  Pepys's  own 
hand  before  being  bound  into  five  large  folio  volumes. 
The  first  title-page  runs: 

My  Collection  of  Ballads.  Vol.  I.  Begun  by  M'  Selden;  Im- 
prov'd  by  y^  addition  of  many  Pieces  elder  thereto  in  Time;  and 
the  whole  continued  to  the  year  1700.  When  the  Form,  till  then 
peculiar  thereto,  viz',  of  the  Black  Letter  with  Picturs,  seems  (for 
cheapness  sake)  wholly  laid  aside,  for  that  of  the  White  Letter 
without  Pictures. 

Nearly  every  broadside  in  the  first  four  volumes  is  printed 
in  black-letter  type,  while  in  the  fifth  volume  appear  only 
broadsides  in  roman  and  italic  type.  Ballads  of  a  com- 
paratively early  date — almost  none  later  than  1640 — are 
found  in  the  first  volume,  those  in  the  other  volumes  being, 
for  the  most  part,  printed  during  the  years  1660— 1700. 
It  seems  likely  that  the  majority  of  the  older  ballads  came 
from  John  Selden's  collection.  A  careful  study  of  the  old 
numbering  on  the  separate  sheets  and  of  Pepys's  new 
pagination  would  no  doubt  partially  reveal  the  extent  of 
the  Selden  nucleus  on  which  the  collection  was  built. 

A  manuscript  catalogue  of  the  collection  shows  1797 
entries  of  first  lines.  This  number,  however,  not  only  in- 
cludes printed  duplicates  as  well  as  manuscript  ballads 
that  Pepys  copied  but  also  fails  to  indicate  when  more  than 
one  ballad  is  printed  on  a  single  sheet.  J.  W.  Ebsworth^, 
after  a  painstaking  examination  of  the  collection,  stated 
that  it  contains    1738   individual  printed  sheets,   67  of 

1  Roxburghe  Ballads,  viii,  740. 



which  are  duplicates,  and  that  of  the  1671  distinct  ballads 
in  the  five  volumes  964  are  unique. 

No  edition  of  Pepysian  ballads  has  hitherto  been  pub- 
lished: for  the  present  edition  students  are  indebted  to 
the  good  offices  of  Mr  Stephen  Gaselee  and  Mr  O.  F. 
Morshead,  past  and  present  Librarians  of  the  Bibliotheca 
Pepysiana.  The  Ballad  Society,  founded  by  Dr  Furnivall 
in  1868,  announced  its  intention  of  printing  the  Pepys 
collection  as  an  initial  effort,  but,  failing  to  obtain  the 
necessary  authorization,  turned  instead  to  the  huge  collec- 
tions in  the  British  Museum.  The  Roxburghe  and  Bagford 
collections,  have,  as  a  result,  long  been  accessible  in  the 
eleven  volumes  published  by  the  Ballad  Society  under 
the  titles  of  the  Roxburghe  Ballads  (1871-1891)  and 
the  Bagford  Ballads  (1878).  Among  the  eight  volumes  of 
these  publications  that  appeared  under  his  riotous,  if 
learned,  editorship,  Ebsworth^  estimated  that  he  had 
reprinted,  in  one  form  or  another,  at  least  five  hundred 
ballads  that  occur  in  Pepys's  collection.  From  the  collec- 
tion, too,  long  before  Ebsworth's  time,  distinguished 
students  had  drawn  heavily.  Bishop  Percy  made  a  thorough 
study  of  it  before  beginning  the  publication  of  his  epoch- 
making  Reliques  0}  Ancient  English  Poetry  (1765),  in  that 
work  reproduced  a  number  of  Pepysian  ballads,  and  had 
many  others  copied  for  him.  These  copies,  by  the  way,  are 
now  preserved  in  the  Percy  Papers  owned  by  the  Harvard 
College  Library.  Others  were  reprinted  by  Thomas  Evans 
and  R.  H.  Evans  in  various  editions  of  their  Old  Ballads^ 
Historical  and  Narrative  (i  777-1 8 10).  Macaulay  gleaned 
from  the  ballads  some  picturesque  facts  for  his  History  of 
England\  and  within  the  last  few  years  many  other  broad- 
sides from  the  collection  have  been  here  and  there  re- 
printed 2,  often  in  unexpected  places.  Many  of  Pepys's 
ballads,  then,  are  accessible  if  one  searches  diligently.  The 
bulk  of  the  collection,  however,  is  still  generally  unknown, 

^  Roxburghe  Ballads^  viii,  740. 

2  Noteworthy  are  the  photographic  reproductions  in  Professor  C.  H. 
Firth's  six  volume  illustrated  edition  of  Macaulay's  History. 



and  is  likely  to  remain  so  until  a  trustworthy  printed 
catalogue  is  published.  Such  a  catalogue  I  hope  to  make 
some  day.  Meanwhile,  this  Garland  reprints  the  most 
interesting  seventeenth  century  ballads  in  Pepys's  first 
volume,  none  of  a  later  date  than  1639,  and  to  them  adds 
from  other  sources  six  or  seven  early  ballads  in  which 
Pepys  himself  would  have  revelled. 

Undeniably  the  golden  age  of  the  ballad,  like  the  golden 
age  of  the  theatre,  ended  with  the  outbreak  of  the  Great  Re- 
bellion. During  the  Commonwealth  period  (1649— 1659) 
ballad-singing  was  prohibited  by  law,  and  offending  street 
singers  were  flogged  out  of  the  trade.  To  be  sure,  ballads 
continued  to  be  printed,  but  in  not  so  large  numbers  as  in 
the  years  before  1642  and  after  1660.  For  this  decay  re- 
pressive laws  were  but  partly  to  blame :  more  important  is 
the  fact  that  the  chief  writers  turned  from  ballads  to  chap- 
books  and  news-pamphlets.  Martin  Parker,  the  greatest 
of  them  all,  is  known  to  have  written  many  pamphlets  but 
only  five  or  six  ballads  after  1642,  and  with  his  death  in 
1652  the  best  part  of  balladry  came  to  an  end.  Laurence 
Price,  almost  the  last  of  the  distinguished  line  of  ballad- 
writers  that  began  in  1559  with  William  Elderton  (or  in 
1 5 1 2  with  John  Skelton),  wrote  for  only  a  brief  time  after 
the  Restoration.  In  authorship,  in  typography,  and  in 
subject-matter,  Restoration  ballads  can  seldom  compare 
in  interest  with  those  of  the  reigns  of  the  Tudors  and  early 

It  may  be  well  to  explain  the  use  of  the  word  ballad. 
Modern  critics  very  often  think  of  a  ballad  only  as  a 
traditional  song  that,  like  "Sir  Patrick  Spens,"  "Barbara 
Allen,"  or  "Johnny  Armstrong,"  has  decided  merits  as 
poetry.  This  unhistoric  restriction  of  the  term  to  the  Eng- 
lish and  Scottish  "popular"  ballads  is  a  development  of 
the  nineteenth  century.  To  quarrel  with  it  would  be  out 
of  place;  but  at  least  readers  may  be  reminded  that  to 
Shakespeare,  Jonson,  Beaumont,  Fletcher,  Dryden,  and 
Pepys  the  word  ballad  had  in  general  one  meaning  only: 
namely,  a  song  (usually  written  by  a  hack-poet)  that  was 



printed  on  a  broadside  and  sold  in  the  streets  by  pro- 
fessional singers.  If  "Johnny  Armstrong,"  "Chevy 
Chase,"  or  Sir  Edward  Dyer's  "  My  Mind  to  Me  a  King- 
dom Is"  got  into  the  hands  of  the  John  Trundles  of 
London,  it,  too,  became  a  ballad.  Elizabethans  and 
Jacobeans  recognized  no  difference  whatever  in  type  be- 
tween what  are  now  called  traditional  (or  popular)  ballads 
and  broadside  (or  stall)  ballads:  some  of  them  no  doubt 
thought  "Chevy  Chase"  a  better  ballad  than,  say,  "The 
Famous  Rat-catcher"  (No.  lo).  But,  if  so,  they  were  judg- 
ing each  by  its  manner  and  matter,  not  discriminating 
between  traditional  and  stall  songs.  In  this  book  the  word 
ballad,  when  otherwise  unqualified,  refers  to  the  printed 
broadside  type  only. 

To  judge  the  ballad  as  poetry  is  altogether  unfair.  A 
few  ballads,  to  be  sure,  do  appear  in  TotteVs  Miscellany, 
the  Paradise  of  Dainty  Devises,  and  the  Gorgeous  Gallery  of 
Gallant  Inventions  without  reeking  of  their  humble  origin; 
while  the  Handfull  of  Pleasant  Delights  (1584),  which  con- 
tains nothing  but  ballads,  has  been  absurdly  overpraised 
by  critics  (who,  apparently,  do  not  know  that  all  of  its 
songs  had  before  collection  been  printed  as  broadside 
ballads)  as  "a  work  of  considerable  merit,  containing 
some  notable  songs,"  or  as  "one  of  the  most  prized  of  the 
poetical  book  gems  of  the  Elizabethan  period,"  or  as 
"lyric  poems^."  If  such  criticism  of  the  Handfull  were 
sound,  an  editor  need  have  no  fear  in  introducing  the 
eighty  ballads  in  this  book  as  a  very  notable  collection 
indeed  of  Elizabethan  and  Stuart  lyrics.  But  sound  it  is 

Ballads  worthy  to  be  called  real  poetry  can  almost  be 
counted  on  the  fingers  of  both  hands.  Among  them  might 
be  placed  the  old  ballad  of  "Love  Will  Find  Out  the 
Way,"  which  Palgrave  included  in  his  Golden  Treasury 
and  which  Thomas  Hardy  and  Alfred  Noyes  quote  with 

^  See  a  discussion  of  A  Handfull  of  Pleasant  Delights  by  the  present 
writer  in  the  Journal  of  English  and  Germanic  Philology,  January,  19 19. 


evident  gusto;  or  "A  Farewell  to  Love,"  from  Thomas 
Deloney's  Garland  of  Good  Will^  that  is  also  included  in 
the  Passionate  Pilgrim  as  the  work  of  Shakespeare;  or 
"Mary  Ambree,"  a  stirring  song  beloved  by  literary  men 
from  Ben  Jonson  to  George  Meredith;  or,  possibly,  "The 
Babes  in  the  Woods,"  so  highly  praised  in  Wordsworth's 
preface  to  the  Lyrical  Ballads. 

From  the  point  of  view  of  sheer  melody  and  rhythm, 
ballads  often  answer  more  than  fairly  to  the  test.  It  is  a 
fact  too  often  forgotten  that,  whatever  their  subject, 
ballads  were  written  to  be  sung  to  certain  definite  and 
well-known  tunes.  Hence  it  often  happens  that  the  most 
doleful  subject-matter  is  embodied  in  a  measure  that  is 
decidedly  musical  and  attractive.  Cases  in  point  are  the 
refrains  to  the  lugubrious  ditty  of  Mrs  Francis  (No.  52) 
and  the  history  of  Jonah  (No.  1 1).  The  matter  and  the 
diction  of  ballads  are  often  contemptible  while  the  measure 
is  very  good  indeed.  For  this  reason,  or  simply  from  the 
fact  that  a  naive  news-story  is  told,  ballads  may  at  times 
pardonably  be  described  as  "remarkable"  or  "splendid" 
or  even  "delicious." 

Ballads  were  not  written  for  poetry.  They  were,  in  the 
main,  the  equivalent  of  modern  newspapers,  and  it  cannot 
well  be  denied  that  customarily  they  performed  their  func- 
tion as  creditably  in  verse  as  the  average  newspaper  does 
in  prose.  Journalistic  ballads  outnumbered  all  other  types. 
Others  were  sermons,  or  romances,  or  ditties  of  love  and 
jealousy,  of  tricks  and  "jests,"  comparable  to  the  ragtime, 
or  music  hall,  songs  of  the  present  time.  As  such  they 
may  be  beyond  praise,  however  woefully  lacking  in  high 
seriousness  and  criticism  of  life.  The  ballad  has  interest 
and  value  quite  independent  of  its  defects  or  its  merits  as 
poetry;  and  many  of  the  most  delightful  and  most  valuable 
ballads  are  those  which  as  poetry  are  worthless  or  even 
contemptible.  Written  for  the  common  people  by  pro- 
fessional rhymesters — journalists  of  the  earth  earthy — 
ballads  made  no  claims  to  poetry  and  art.  They  have 
always  interested  educated  men,   not  as  poems   but  as 



popular  songs  or  as  mirrors  held  up  to  the  life  of  the 
people.  In  them  are  clearly  reflected  the  lives  and  thoughts, 
the  hopes  and  fears,  the  beliefs  and  amusements,  of  six- 
teenth and  seventeenth  century  Englishmen.  In  them 
history  becomes  animated. 

Shakespeare  knew  dozens  of  ballads  by  heart:  he  and 
his  fellow-dramatists  quote  from  ballads  in  nearly  every 
play;  and  if  occasionally  they  quote  in  ridicule,  then  their 
ridicule  applies  also  to  "John  Dory,"  "George  Aloe," 
"Little  Musgrave,"  and  " Mussleborough  Field," — 
traditional  ballads  now  enshrined  in  Professor  Child's 
English  and  Scottish  Popular  Ballads.  The  great  Eliza- 
bethans did  not  dream  of  judging  ballads  as  poetry — 
though  indisputably  they  enjoyed  reading  and  singing 
them — and  lost  no  opportunity  of  denouncing  their 
authors.  Ben  Jonson,  for  example,  flatly  declared  that  "a 
poet  should  detest  a  ballad-maker,"  echoing  Thomas 
Nashe's  grave  remark  that  if  a  man  would  "love  good 
poets  he  must  not  countenance  ballad-makers."  The 
Parkers  and  Prices  of  balladry  were  butts  of  never-ceasing 
ridicule:  their  very  names  were  odious  to  poets,  though 
many  of  their  ballads  rang  pleasingly  on  the  ear,  sounded 
trippingly  on  the  tongue.  Nothing  else  brings  one  so  close 
to  the  mass  of  people  for  whom  Shakespeare  wrote  as  do 
these  songs  of  the  street.  Produced  solely  for  the  common 
people,  in  them  are  presented  topics  often  of  real  value  and 
interest.  It  is  doubtful  if  a  more  remarkable  group  of 
ballads  has  ever  been  brought  together  in  one  volume 
than  those  here  reprinted;  but  he  would  be  a  bold  man 
who  should  characterize  them  as  poetry. 

The  Pepysian  Garland  contains  eighty  ballads.  Seventy- 
three  of  them  come  from  the  Pepys  collection,  six  from  the 
Wood  and  Rawlinson  collections  at  the  Bodleian  Library, 
and  one  from  the  Manchester  Free  Reference  Library. 
The  earliest  is  dated  1595,  the  latest  (except  for  No.  26, 
which  is  included  only  to  illustrate  another  ballad)  1639. 
For  obvious  reasons  a  chronological  arrangement  has  been 
adopted,  with  the  result  that  great  variety  of  subjects 



greets  the  eye  of  a  reader  as  he  turns  through  the  pages, 
— a  variety  characteristic  of  the  wares  offered  daily  in  the 
streets  of  seventeenth  century  London.  A  ballad-monger, 
said  Thomas  Middleton,  never  lacked  "a  subject  to 
write  of:  one  hangs  himself  today,  another  drowns  him- 
self tomorrow,  a  sergeant  stabbed  next  day;  here  a  petti- 
fogger a'  the  pillory;  a  bawd  in  the  cart's  nose,  and  a 
pander  in  the  tail;  hie  mulier^  haec  vir^  fashions,  fictions, 
felonies,  fooleries; — a  hundred  havens  has  the  ballad- 
monger  to  traffic  at,  and  new  ones  still  daily  discovered^." 
Middleton's  comment  reads  like  a  description  of  the 
Pepysian  Garland\ 

Among  the  eighty  ballads  are  historical  accounts,  more 
or  less  trustworthy, — a  few  derived  from  news-books, 
others  from  actual  observation, — of  the  assassination  of 
Henry  IV  of  France,  the  execution  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh, 
the  activities  of  three  Northamptonshire  witches  against 
the  Earl  of  Rutland,  the  fall  of  Oldenbarneveldt  and  of 
Sir  Francis  Michell,  prodigies  above  Cork  and  the  burning 
of  that  city  in  1622,  the  Amboyna  Massacre,  the  murder 
of  Dr  John  Lamb,  and  a  battle  between  the  Dutch  and 
Spanish  fleets  in  1639.  Journalistic,  too,  are  the  "hanging 
ballads"  and  doleful  "good-nights"  of  criminals  who 
atoned  for  their  crimes  at  the  stake  or  on  the  gallows — 
illustrating  a  curiosity  for  news,  often  mistakenly  called 
morbid,  that  is  quite  as  eager  to-day  as  then.  As  journalism 
some  of  these  ballads  are  admirable. 

Sermonizing  ballads  full  of  dire  warnings  and  moraliz- 
ing also  have  a  place,  and  we  are  asked  to  shudder  at  a 
"passing  bell"  that  tolled  from  heaven  in  1582,  at  Caleb 
Shillock's  prophecies  for  the  year  1607,  and  at  a  prophecy 
of  the  Judgment  Day  found  in  France  in  161 8.  In  a 
curiously  modern  tone  "The  Goodfellow's  Complaint" 
and  "The  Back's  Complaint"  present  the  woes  attendant 
on  drunkenness  and  plead  for  total  abstinence;  while  for 
the  edification  of  the  unread  other  ballads  paraphrase  the 
Biblical  account  of  Solomon's  judgment  and  of  Jonah. 

1  The  World  Tost  at  Tennis,  1620  {Works,  ed.  A.  H.  Bullen,  vii,  i  54). 



A  number  deal  with  marvellous  events  or  persons, — 
with  the  "admirable"  teeth  and  stomach  of  Nicholas 
Wood,  with  a  "monstrous  strange"  fish  caught  in 
Cheshire,  with  a  sprightly  "pig-faced  gentlewoman"  who 
was  called  Miss  Tannakin  Skinker,  or  with  the  too 
severely  punished  Lamenting  Lady  who  bore  ^6^  children 
at  one  burden.  Fewer  demands  on  one's  credulity  are  made 
by  the  romances  of  Hero  and  Leander,  of  a  conventionally 
cruel  Western  Knight  and  a  Bristol  maid,  of  a  Wiltshire 
Cressid  and  a  doting  old  dad.  Pictures  of  manners  and 
customs  as  valuable  as  those  in  the  comedies  of  Dekker 
and  Middleton, — coming  as  they  do  from  another  angle 
of  observation, — are  given  in  "Whipping  Cheer,"  "The 
Rat-catcher,"  "A  Banquet  for  Sovereign  Husbands,"  and 
"Turner's  Dish  of  Lenten  Stuff."  Satires  of  the  foibles  of 
the  people  abound.  Lovers  and  their  ladies  are  laughed  at 
in  "Ten  Shillings  for  a  Kiss,"  "A  Proverb  Old,"  and 
"The  Wiving  Age";  husbands  are  depicted  as  "He- 
Devils,"  wives  as  incorrigible  scolds;  and  all  trades  and 
professions  are  held  up  to  scorn  for  their  dishonest  actions. 
In  contrast  to  these  tirades,  however,  are  a  number  of 
pleasing  ballads  written  to  glorify  certain  low  trades  and 
honest  manual  labour. 

The  most  important  single  ballad  in  the  volume  is 
"Francis'  New  Jig"  (No.  i),  of  the  date  1595.  This  is 
apparently  the  only  printed  Elizabethan  jig  that  has  been 
preserved.  Of  hardly  less  interest  is  the  "Country  New 
Jig  between  Simon  and  Susan"  (No.  21),  and  there  are  at 
least  two  other  ballads  (Nos.  29,  ^^'y  cf.  also  No.  38)  that 
perhaps  were  jigs.  A  jig  may  be  defined  as  a  miniature 
comedy  or  farce,  written  in  ballad-measure,  which,  at  the 
end  of  a  play,  was  sung  and  danced  on  the  stage  to  ballad- 
tunes.  Thanks  to  the  mystifications  of  J.  P.  Collier^  the 

1  In  his  Nezo  Fads  Regarding  the  Life  of  Shakespeare  (183  5),  pp.  1 8-20, 
Collier  gave  an  erroneous  definition  and  a  specimen  jig  from  a  spurious 
MS.  that  have  deceived  his  followers.  Fleay  {Biographical  Chronicle  of  the 
English  Drama,  11,  258),  Furness  {Nezv  Variorum  Hamlet,  i,  190), 
A.  W.  Ward  {History  of  English  Dramatic  Literature,  i,  454,  476),  and 



jig  has  received  scanty  and  inadequate  treatment  from 
historians  of  the  English  drama.  A  number  of  other 
genuine  jigs  are  extant.  First  in  importance  is  that  pre- 
served in  MS.  Rawlinson  Poet.  185  under  the  title  of  "A 
proper  new  ballett,  intituled  Rowland's  god-sonne.  To  the 
tune  of  hoth  to  departed  There  is  a  reference  to  this  jig 
in  the  prologue  to  Nashe's  play  Summer  s  Last  Will^  and 
a  two-part  moralization  was  registered  on  April  28  and 
2,9,  1592^.  Almost  as  interesting  is  an  unnamed  jig  pre- 
served among  the  Henslowe  papers  at  Dulwich  College, 
which  Collier  misled  scholars  into  believing  to  be  a  frag- 
ment of  a  play  by  Christopher  Marlowe^.  Still  other  jigs 
occur  among  the  Roxburghe  Ballads'^,  in  Robert  Cox's 
drolls*,  and,  from  lost  originals,  in  German  translations^. 
By  1590  jigs  were  thoroughly  established  in  London 
theatres  as  the  usual  conclusions  to  plays.  In  his  Pierce 
Penilesse  (1592)  Thomas  Nashe  sneered  at 

the  queint  comedians  of  our  time, 
That  when  their  Play  is  donne  do  fal  to  ryme^; 

and  he  threatened  Gabriel  Harvey  that  "Comedie  vpon 
Comedie  he  shall  haue,  a  Morall,  a  Historie,  a  Tragedie, 
or  what  hee  will... with  a  ligge  at  the  latter  ende  in  Eng- 
lish Hexameters  of  O  neighbour  Gabriell^  and  his  wooing  of 
Kate  Cotton'^ r  Comparatively  few  jigs  were  registered  at 

others  accept  Collier's  definition  and  his  specimen  as  genuine.  W.  W.  Greg 
(JB.enslozve' s  Diary,  11,  189)  says  that  "no  undoubtedly  genuine  specimen 
[of  a  jig]  is  extant." 

1  Andrew  Clark's  Shir  burn  Ballads,  p.  354;  Herrig's  Arckiv,  1904, 
cxiv,  326  fF.;  R.  B.  McKerrow's  Nashe,  iii,  235;  Arber's  Transcript  of  the 
Stationers'  Registers,  11,  609  f. 

2  Collier's  Alleyn  Papers,  pp.  8-1 1;  G.  F.  Warner's  Catalogue  of  the 
MSS.  and  Muniments  of  Alleyns  College  at  Dulwich,  pp.  60  f.;  A.  Dyce's 
Marlowe,  Appendix. 

^  E.g.  I,  125,  201,  249. 

*  Actaeon  and  Diana,  etc.,  1656. 

5  E.g.  "Roland  und  Margareth,  Ein  Lied,  von  Englischen  Comedi- 
anten  albie  gemacht"  (F.  M.  Boehme's  Altdeutsches  Liederbuch,  1877,  pp. 
174  fF.),  which  appears  to  be  a  translation  of  the  "gigge  betwene  Rowland 
and  the  Sexton"  that  was  licensed  on  December  16,  i  591. 

^  R.  B.  McKerrow's  Nashe,  i,  244.  '  Ibid,  iii,  114. 



Stationers'  Hall,  all  during  the  years  1 591-1595.  The 
reason  for  the  small  number  lies,  no  doubt,  in  the  unwill- 
ingness of  the  dramatic  companies  to  have  their  jigs 
"staled"  by  the  press:  they  protected  the  jigs  in  their 
repertory  more  successfully  than  their  plays.  Uncertainty 
about  printers'  rights  to  the  copies  caused  the  Clerk  of 
the  Stationers'  Company  to  license,  in  December,  1591, 
two  jigs  with  the  proviso,  so  often  met  with  in  entries  of 
plays,  "so  that  they  appertain  not  to  any  other  1."  But 
jigs  did  not  die  out  in  1595;  far  from  it. 

On  December  12,  1597,  Philip  Henslowe  bought  two 
jigs  for  the  use  of  a  company  of  actors,  paying  for  the 
two  six  shillings  and  eight  pence^, — proof  that  jigs  had 
received  the  approval  of  the  box-office.  In  1598,  Ben 
Jonson  tells  us,  jigs  came  "ordinarily  after  a  play^."  He 
loathed  "the  concupiscence  of  jigs  and  dances,"  and  be- 
lieved that  they  prevented  audiences  from  appreciating 
plays*.  "Your  only  jig-maker,"  Hamlet  calls  himself  after 
he  has  carried  on  a  vulgar  dialogue  with  the  bewildered 
Ophelia.  As  for  Polonius,  who  is  bored  by  the  long  tragic 
speech  of  the  Player,  Hamlet  sarcastically  remarks:  "He's 
for  a  jig  or  a  tale  of  bawdry,  or  he  sleeps^." 

Customarily  when  a  play  was  finished  and  the  epilogue 
spoken,  the  musicians  struck  up  a  tune  and  the  comedians 
came  dancing  out  for  the  jig.  "I  haue  often  scene," 
wrote  Thomas  Dekker  in  1613,  "after  the  finishing  of 
some  worthy  Tragedy,  or  Catastrophe  in  the  open  Thea- 
ters, that  the  Sceane  after  the  Epilogue  hath  beene  more 
blacke  (about  a  nasty  bawdy  ligge)  then  the  most  horrid 
Sceane  in  the  Play  was^."  There  can  be  no  doubt  that 
some  people  went  to  the  theatres  to  see  the  jig  no  less 

^  Arber's  Transcript,  11,  600. 
-  Henslowe's  Diary,  ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  i,  70,  82. 
^  Every  Man  out  of  His  Humour,  11,  i. 
*  Induction  to  Bartholomew  Fair. 
^  Hamlet,  in,  ii,  132;  11,  ii,  522. 

^  A  Strange  Horse  Race  {Works,  ed.  Grosart,  iii,  340).  Cf.  Edmund 
Gayton's  Pleasant  Notes  upon  Don  Quixot,  1654,  pp.  108,  187,  271-272. 



than  the  play.  Says  Thrift,  in  Thomas  Goffe's  Careless 
Shepherdess'^  (2iho\it  1620): 

I  will  hasten  to  the  money  Box, 
And  take  my  shilling  out  again,  for  now 
I  have  considered  that  it  is  too  much; 
rie  go  to  th'  Bull,  or  Fortune,  and  there  see 
A  Play  for  two  pense,  with  a  Jig  to  boot. 

A  document  of  the  highest  importance, — not  quoted,  I  be- 
lieve, in  any  work  on  the  drama, — that  shows  the  attitude 
both  of  the  common  people  and  of  the  civil  authorities 
towards  jigs  is  printed  in  J.  C.  Jeaffreson's  Middlesex 
County  Records  (11,  83).  It  is  "An  C3rder  for  suppressinge 
of  Jigges  att  the  ende  of  Playes"  passed  at  the  General 
Sessions  of  the  Peace  on  October  i,  1612,  which  runs  as 
follows : 

Whereas  Complaynte  have  \_sic']  beene  made  at  this  last  General! 
Sessions  that  by  reason  of  certayne  lewde  Jigges  songes  and  daunces 
vsed  and  accustomed  at  the  play-house  called  the  Fortune  in 
Gouldinglane  divers  cutt-purses  and  other  lewde  and  ill  disposed 
persons  in  greate  multitudes  doe  resorte  thither  at  th'  end  of  euerye 
playe  many  tymes  causinge  tumultes  and  outrages.  .  .  Itt  was  here- 
uppon  expresselye  commaunded  and  ordered  by  the  Justices  of  the 
said  benche  That  all  Actors  of  euerye  playehouse  within  this  cittye 
and  liberties  thereof  and  in  the  Countye  of  Middlesex  that  they 
and  euerie  of  them  utterlye  abolishe  all  Jigges  Rymes  and  Daunces 
after  their  playes  And  not  to  tollerate  permitt  or  suffer  anye  of  them 
to  be  used  vpon  payne  of  ymprisonment  and  puttinge  downe  and 
suppressinge  of  theire  playes.  And  such  further  punishment  to  be 
inflicted  upon  them  as  their  offences  shall  deserve.  .  . 

As  a  result  of  this  order,  the  comedian  John  Shank 
ceased  "to  sing  his  rhymes,"  as  William  Turner  (cf.  p.  2S) 
phrased  it:  no  doubt  other  jig-dancers  suffered  a  like 
eclipse;  but  the  effect  of  the  order  was  temporary,  and  jigs 
continued  to  be  sung  regularly  down  to  1642. 

At  least  two  characters  were  required  in  all  jigs  for  the 
sake  of  dialogue,  and  the  number  often,  perhaps  usually, 
was  three  or  four.  Jigs  were  never  improvised:  instead 
they  were  composed  by  professional  ballad-writers  or  jig- 

^   1654  ed.,  sig.  B  4^  {Praeludium). 

xvii  b 


makers,  and  were  performed  with  fairly  elaborate  cos- 
tumes and  stage-properties.  "Francis'  New  Jig"  has  roles 
for  two  women,  both  of  whom  were  at  times  masked,  and 
for  two  men,  whose  costumes  indicate  which  was  the 
gentleman,  which  the  farmer.  Furthermore,  the  gentle- 
man was  provided  with  ten  pounds  in  stage  money  and  a 
ring  to  give  his  supposed  mistress.  One  scene  in  "Row- 
land's Godson"  is  represented  as  taking  place  in  an 
orchard,  where  the  servant  beats  his  master,  who  is  dis- 
guised in  a  woman's  clothes.  One  of  Robert  Cox's  jigs 
required  a  bedroom  set  and  a  chest  big  enough  to  hold  a 
man.  Stage-directions,  too,  were  as  explicit  as  in  the 
majority  of  plays  and,  with  the  action  itself,  show  that 
jigs  were  written  with  the  peculiar  conventions  of  the 
Elizabethan  stage  in  mind.  Notice,  for  example,  the  prin- 
ciple of  alternating  scenes  and  the  lapse  of  an  entire 
night's  time  in  "Francis'  New  Jig." 

There  is  reason  to  believe  that  educated  and  ignorant 
people  alike  delighted  in  jigs.  Good  jig-makers  invariably 
aimed  at  making  their  work  "both  witty  to  the  wise,  and 
pleasing  to  the  ignorant ^"  That  they  succeeded  the  con- 
tinual protests  of  the  great  dramatists  show.  Shortly  before 
his  death  John  Fletcher  declared  with  some  bitterness 
that  a  good  play 

Meets  oftentimes  with  the  sweet  commendation 
Of  "Hang't!"  "'tis  scurvy":  when  for  approbation 
A  jig  shall  be  clapt  at,  and  every  rhyme 
Prais'd  and  applauded  by  a  clamorous  chime^. 

In  jigs  Elizabethan  comedians  won  much  of  their 
fame.  William  Kemp,  in  particular,  gained  enormous 
popularity  during  the  years  1 591-1595  with  his  jigs  of 
"The  Broomman,"  "The  Kitchen-Stuff  Woman,"  "A 
Soldier,  a  Miser,  and  Sym  the  Clown,"  and  the  three 
parts  of  "Kemp's  Jig^."  That  his  reputation  for  jigs  had 
not  declined  in  1599  is  attested  by  striking  allusions  to 

1  Hog  Hath  Lost  His  Pearl  (Dodsley-Hazlitt's  Old  Plays,  xi,  435). 

2  Prologue  to  The  Fair  Maid  of  the  Inn. 

3  Cf.  Arber's  Transcript,  11,  297,  600,  669;  iii,  50. 



them  in  the  satires  of  John  Marston  and  Edward  Guilpin  ^. 
Hardly  less  popular,  perhaps,  were  Augustine  Phillips — 
an  actor  in  Shakespeare's  plays — whose  "Jig  of  the 
Slippers^"  was  licensed  in  May,  1595;  George  Attowell, 
who  danced  "Francis'  New  Jig"  in  1595;  John  Shank, 
who  is  mentioned  in  "Turner's  Dish"  (No.  5);  and, 
much  later,  Robert  Cox. 

Of  the  widespread  influence  of  the  jigs  a  bare  mention 
must  suffice.  Through  the  visits  of  English  comedians  to 
the  Continent  after  1585,  a  lively  imitation  of  English 
ballad-tunes  and  jigs  grew  up,  especially  in  the  Nether- 
lands, Scandinavia,  and  Germany.  A  particularly  notable 
result  in  Germany  was  the  Singspiele  of  Jacob  Ayrer  and 
his  successors  ^  In  England  itself,  until  the  closing  of  the 
theatres  by  the  Long  Parliament,  jigs  lost  none  of  their 
popularity.  In  1633  Lupton  wrote  that  "most  commonly 
when  the  play  is  done,  you  shal  haue  a  lige  or  dance  of 
all  trads,  they  mean  to  put  their  legs  to  it,  as  well  as  their 
to'ngs^."  After  the  severe  anti-stage  laws  of  1642  and 
1649,  jigs  continued  to  be  performed  regularly,  though 
the  term  usually  applied  to  them  nowaday  is  droll.  "The 
incomparable  Robert  Cox,  who,"  as  Francis  Kirkman^ 
wrote,  "was  not  only  the  principal  actor,  but  also  the  con- 
triver and  author  of  most  of  these  farces,"  did  not  flatter 
himself  on  inventing  a  new  type  of  amusement.  He  merely 
substituted  jigs  for  the  plays  themselves;  his  perform- 
ances were  called  jigs  by  some  of  his  contemporaries^; 
and  in  several  of  them,  like  "Singing  Simpkin,"  he  merely 

^  Marston 's  Works,  ed.  A.  H.  Bullen,  iii,  372;  Guilpin's  Skialethia, 
Satire  V. 

2  Arber's  Transcript,  11,  298. 

^  Cf.  J.  Bolte's  Die  Singspiele  der  englischen  Komoedianten  und  ikrer 
Nachfolger  in  Deutschland,  Holland,  und  Skandinavien,  1893,  and  a  re- 
view by  B.  Hoenig  in  Anzeiger fUr  Deutsches  Altertum,  xxii,  296-319. 

*  London  and  Country  Carbonadoed,  p.  8 1 . 

^  Preface  to  The  Wits,  or  Sport  upon  Sport,  1672. 

^  Thus  Mercurius  Democritus  for  June  22-29,  '^53'  ^'^^^^  '^^  h°w 
soldiers  raided  the  Red  Bull  playhouse  and  arrested  Cox  who  was  per- 
forming "a  modest  and  ha[r]mless  jigge,  calle[d]  Swobber^'' — one  of  the 
drolls  on  which  Kirkman  lavished  praise. 

xix  bi 


revived  old  jigs  that  years  before  had  been  carried  abroad 
by  English  comedians  and  that  survive  in  Swedish, 
Dutch,  and  German  versions  far  earlier  than  his  own  ^. 

But  by  an  extension  of  the  drolls  to  include  farces  in 
prose  as  well  as  comic  scenes  cut  from  the  plays  of 
Shakespeare,  Fletcher,  and  other  playwrights,  the  jig 
may  have  been  partially  forgotten.  After  the  Restoration, 
however,  it  was  immediately  revived.  Typical  early  ex- 
amples are  "A  Dialogue  Betwixt  Tom  and  Dick,  The 
former  a  Country-man,  The  other  a  Citizen,  Presented  to 
his  Excellency  and  the  Council  of  State,  at  Drapers-Hall 
in  London,  March  28.  16602,"  g^j^^  Thomas  Jordan's 
"The  Cheaters  Cheated.  A  Representation  in  four  parts 
to  be  Sung  by  Nim,  Filcher,  Wat,  and  Moll,  made  for 
the  Sheriffs  of  London^."  Jigs  and  drolls  long  survived  in 
the  provincial  towns  after  they  had  been  displaced  from 
the  London  theatres'*;  and  possibly  their  influence  can 
be  traced  in  the  farces  with  which  plays  even  in  the  first 
half  of  the  nineteenth  century  customarily  ended.  Cer- 
tainly their  influence  is  seen  in  the  dances  and  dialogue 
songs  ^  so  common  in  Restoration  plays.  Few  minor  forms 
of  literature  have  had  so  great  an  influence,  and  none  has 
been  so  neglected  by  students. 

The  Garland  introduces  a  number  of  ballad-writers 
who  have  for  three  centuries  been  forgotten,  in  spite  of 
the  belief  they  once  must  have  shared  with  other  members 
of  their  tribe  that 

Who  makes  a  ballad  for  an  ale-house  door 
Shall  live  in  future  times  for  evermore®! 

1  See  especially  Cox's  own  edition,  Actaeon  and  Diana,  etc.,  and  cf. 
the  work  of  Bolte  previously  cited. 

2  Luttrell  Collection,  II,  63  (British  Museum);  The  Rump,  1662,11,188  ff. 
^  Thomas  Jordan's  A  Royal  Arbor  of  Loyal  Poesie,  1664,  pp.  34-55. 

^  At  Norwich  licenses  were  granted  to  players  of  drolls  on  October  21, 
1 67 1,  and  March  9,  1687  (Walter  Rye,  Depositions  taken  before  the  Mayor 
and  Aldermen  of  Norwich,  1905,  pp.  143,  180). 

^  Many  of  them  are  printed  with  the  music  in  Wit  and  Mirth,  or  Pills 
to  Purge  Melancholy  {e.g.  1719  ed.,  i,  46,  91,  236). 

^  Parnassus  Plays,  ed.  Macray,  p.  83. 



The  most  important  of  these  old  ballad-poets  is  undoubt- 
edly Thomas  Brewer.  His  ballad  of  the  year  1 605  on  the 
Society  of  Porters,  and  another,  dated  1609,  on  two  mon- 
strous births  (cf.  No.  2)  clearly  indicate  that  he  flourished 
rather  in  1605—10  than,  as  all  writers  interested  in  the 
history  of  the  drama  have  said,  in  "1620?"  The  1605 
ballad  is  the  earliest  work  of  Brewer's  yet  brought  to  light. 
Interesting  also  is  the  signature  of  George  Attowell,  a 
well-known  Elizabethan  actor,  though  the  authenticity  of 
it  is  open  to  grave  suspicion.  William  Turner,  a  figure 
who  has  mystified  earlier  commentators,  is  the  author  of 
No.  5,  and  is  shown  to  have  been  actively  writing  ballads 
in  16 1 3.  Other  new  ballad-authors,  about  whom  no  bio- 
graphical details  are  obtainable,  are  William  Meash, 
T.  Platte,  Edward  Culter,  William  Cooke,  Thomas 
Dickerson,  LI.  Morgan,  and  T.F. 

Many  well-known  writers,  too,  are  represented  here  by 
ballads  that  have  not  before  been  reprinted, — among 
them  John  Cart,  Richard  Climsal,  and  Robert  Guy. 
Sixteen  of  the  ballads  are  signed  by  Martin  Parker,  most 
of  them  new  additions  to  his  bibliography.  Only  one 
ballad  by  him  now  remains  in  the  Pepys  collection  (i,  410) 
unreproduced :  "The  Married-womans  Case.  Or,  Good 
Counsell  to  Mayds,  to  be  carefull  of  hastie  Marriage, 
by  the  example  of  other  Married-women.  To  the  tune  of 
The  Married-mans  Case^  It  was  printed  by  H[enry]. 
G[osson].  and  begins  "You  Maidens  all,  that  are  willing 
to  wed,"  but  almost  the  entire  first  column  is  torn  away. 
Laurence  Price  is  the  author  of  five  of  the  ballads,  and 
one  in  the  Pepys  collection  (i,  218)  still  remains  to  be 
reprinted:  "Oh  Gramercy  Penny.  To  the  tune  of  Its 
better  late  thriue  then  neuerS' 

As  to  editorial  methods:  The  original  texts  are  re- 
produced diplomatically  save  for  two  slight  exceptions: 
the  statement  of  titles  and  tunes  has  been  normalized  bythe 
printer,  and  unmistakable  typographical  errors,  such  as  but 
for  but,  nad  for  and,  are  corrected  in  the  text  but  indicated 
in   the   foot-notes.   The  long  s  (/),  too,  is  disregarded. 



Words  and  letters  torn  off  the  original  sheets  have  been 
supplied  within  square  brackets;  but  no  attempt  has  been 
made  to  smooth  away  or  omit  the  three  or  four  objection- 
able words  that  occur.  Bowdlerizing  is  out  of  the  question 
in  a  work  of  this  kind. 

The  separate  introductions  purpose  to  give  the  necessary 
bibliographical  details,  to  establish  the  date,  to  indicate 
where  the  tune  can  be  found,  and  to  present  appropriate 
facts  about  the  author  and  the  general  situation  of  the 
ballad.  It  has  not  been  possible  to  realize  this  aim  for  all 
the  ballads,  but  perhaps  it  is  permissible  to  call  attention 
to  the  large  number  here  first  identified  with  entries  in 
the  Stationers'  Registers,  to  the  sources  found  for  most 
of  them,  and  to  the  identification  of  tunes  heretofore 
wrongly  assigned  or  unknown.  As  the  texts  themselves 
present  few  difficulties  to  any  one  versed  in  Elizabethan 
literature,  annotations  have  been  reduced  to  the  minimum, 
and  such  explanation  of  archaic  words  and  of  names  as 
seems  desirable  has  been  put  for  the  most  part  in  the 
glossarial  index. 

Grateful  acknowledgment  must  be  made  to  the  authori- 
ties of  the  Pepysian,  Bodleian,  and  Manchester  Free  Re- 
ference Libraries  for  permission  to  reproduce  ballads  from 
their  collections,  especially  to  Mr  Morshead,  of  Magdalene 
College,  whose  interest  and  aid  have  been  unceasing; 
to  Mr  S.  C.  Roberts,  of  the  Cambridge  University  Press, 
for  help  in  securing  rotographs  of  all  the  ballads  contained 
in  this  book  and  for  many  valuable  suggestions  as  the 
book  was  passing  through  the  press;  to  Mr  Alfred 
Rogers,  of  the  Cambridge  University  Library,  for  a  tran- 
script of  the  fourth  ballad;  to  Miss  Addie  F.  Rowe,  of 
the  Harvard  College  Library,  for  verifying  a  number  of 
references  and  quotations;  to  my  colleague,  Dr  Albert  S. 
Borgman,  for  his  help  in  the  proof-reading;  and  to 
Professor  C.  H.  Firth,  whose  essay  on  "The  Ballad  His- 
tory of  the  Reign  of  James  I"  (Royal  Historical  Society 
Transactions,  3rd  Series,  v,  21—61)  has  been  frequently 
consulted.    It  would  be  churlish  to  fail  to  mention  the 



consideration  and  courtesy  shown  me  by  the  officials  of 
the  British  Museum  and  the  Harvard  College  Library, 
two  noble  libraries  from  whose  treasures  I  have  drawn 


Above  all,  I  am  indebted  to  Professor  George  Lyman 
Kittredge,  who  read  the  text  in  manuscript  and  to  whose 
great  erudition  (the  despair  of  his  students)  and  equally 
great  kindness  this  book  owes  very  much  indeed.  In  the 
separate  introductions  to  the  ballads  I  have  tried  specific- 
ally to  indicate  his  aid.  Such  an  acknowledgment,  however, 
is  at  best  misleading:  it  was  my  delightful  years  as  a 
student  at  Harvard  under  Professor  Kittredge  that  gave 
me  an  interest  in  ballads,  and  only  my  training  under  him 
has  made  this  book — whatever  its  faults — possible. 

H.  E.  R. 

New  York  City. 





1.  FRANCIS'  NEW  JIG  (1595).  By  George  Attowell. 
(Pepys,  I,  226) I 

PORTERS  (1605).   By  Thomas  Brewer.   (Pepys,  i,  196)   .  11 

PREDICTION  (1607).   (Pepys,  I,  38)      ....         17 


IV  (1610).   (Pepys,  I,  112) 24 

5.  TURNER'S  DISH  OF  LENTEN  STUFF  (161 2).  By 
William  Turner.   (Pepys,  i,  206)     .....  30 

6.  WHIPPING  CHEER  (161 2?).  (Pepys,  I,  208)         .         .         39 


SWEDEN  (16 1 3).   (Pepys,  I,  100) 44 

8.  LEANDER'S  LOVE  TO  LOYAL  HERO  (1614).  By 
William  Meash.   (Pepys,  i,  344)       .....         49 


HIS  WIFE  (161 5).   (Pepys,  I,  130)  ....         54 

10.  THE  FAMOUS  RAT-CATCHER  (1615.?).  (Pepys,  1,458)         60 

11.  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  PROPHET  JONAS  (161 5?). 
(Pepys,  I,  28)  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .         66 

12.  THE  CUCKING  OF  A  SCOLD  (161 5?).  (Pepys,  i,  454)         72 


A  KISS  (161 5.?).  (Pepys,  I,  316) 78 

14.  ANNE  WALLEN'S  LAMENTATION  (1616).    By  T. 
Platte.   (Pepys,  i,  124)  .......  84 

(Pepys,  I,  III) 89 



No.  PAGE 

SHIRE WITCHES  (1619).  (Pepys,  i,  132)      ...         96 

CONSPIRACY  (1619).   (Pepys,  I,  108)    ....       104 

r8.  A  PROPHECY  OF  THE  JUDGMENT  DAY  (1620?). 

(Pepys,  I,  36)  .         .         .  .         .         .         .         .110 

19.  THE  PEDLAR  OPENING  OF  HIS  PACK  (1620?). 
(Pepys,  I,  238) 116 

20.  THE  LAMENTING  LADY  (1620.?).  (Pepys,  i,  44)         .       121 

SUSAN  (1620?).   (Pepys,  i,  260) 132 

22.  THE  POST  OF  WARE  (1621?).   By  the  Post.   (Pepys,  i, 

212) 139 

CONSCIENCE  (1621).   (Pepys,  i,  142)    ....       144 


IN  IRELAND  (1622).    (Pepys,  i,  70)        ....        150 

CORK  (1622).   (Pepys,  I,  68) 155 


OF  THE  BIRDS  (1676).    (Rawlinson  566,  fol.  78)    .         .        161 

PLAINT FOR  BELLY'S  WRONG  (1622).  By  Edward 
CuLTER.    (Pepys,  I,  446)  ......        166 

28.  A  NEW-YEAR'S  GIFT  FOR  THE  POPE  (1624).  (Pepys, 

1, 62)     ..........       170 

(Pepys,  IV,  42) 173 


A  SINNER  (1624).   (Pepys,  I,  39) 176 

CONCEIT  (1624).   (Pepys,  I,  455)  ....        179 

MIND  (1624).  (Wood  276  B/103)  ....       185 



No.  PACE 

(1624).   (Pepys,  I,  214) 189 

34.  A  MERRY  NEW  CATCH  OF  ALL  TRADES  (1624?). 
(Pepys,  I,  164) 196 

35.  NEWS  OUT  OF  EAST  INDIA  (1624).  (Pepys,  I,  94)     .       200 

THE  WIVES  IN  THE  CITY  (1625?).  (Pepys,  i,  376)   .       207 

37.  THE  TWO  WELSH  LOVERS  (1625?).  By  Martin 
Parker.  (Pepys,  i,  270) 212 

(1625?).   (Pepys,  I,  210) 217 

39.  THE  CRIES  OF  THE  DEAD  (1625?).  (Pepys,  I,  116)    .       222 

(1625?).   By  Martin  Parker.   (Pepys,  i,  386)   .  .         .       229 

41.  THE  WIVING  AGE  (1625?).  By  Martin  Parker. 
(Pepys,  I,  384) 234 

42.  THE  CUNNING  AGE  (1626?).  By  John  Cart.  (Pepys, 
1,412) 239 

43.  THE  CHEATING  AGE  (1626.?).  By  William  Cooke. 
(Pepys,  I,  158) 244 

(1626).    (Pepys,  I,  128) 248 

AND  REPENTANCE  (1626.?).  By  Thomas  Dickerson. 
(Pepys,  I,  114) 256 

46.  NOBODY'S  COUNSEL  TO  CHOOSE  A  WIFE  (1626?). 
(Pepys,  I,  382) 263 

47.  EVERY  MAN'S  CONDITION  (1627?).  By  Ll.  Morgan. 
(Pepys,  I,  220)  ....••••        270 

48.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  DR  LAMB  (1628).  By  Martin 
Parker.   (Pepys,  i,  134) ^7^ 



No.  PAGE 

MURDER  OF  ONE  GOODMAN  DAVIS  (1628).  (Pepys, 

I,  122) 283 

THE  EXAMPLE  OF  ALICE  DAVIS  (1628).    (Pepys,  i, 

120) 288 

OF  THE  FRENCH  KING  (1628).  By  Martin  Parker. 
(Pepys,  I,  96) 293 

ONE  KATHERINE  FRANCIS  (1629).  By  Martin 
Parker.   (Pepys,  i,  i  i  8) 299 

MAID  OF  BRISTOL  (1629).  (Pepys,  1,312)  .         .         .       305 


By  Martin  Parker.  (Pepys,  i,  362)  ....       309 

55.  A  FOOL'S  BOLT  IS  SOON  SHOT  (1629).  By  T.  F. 
(Pepys,  I,  178) 316 

Martin  Parker.   (Pepys,  i,  274) 323 


By  Martin  Parker.   (Pepys,  i,  402)  .         .         .         .328 

58.  A  HE-DEVIL  (1630).  By  Martin  Parker.  (Pepys,  i,  398)       332 

(1630).   (Pepys,  I,  170) 337 

Richard  Climsal.  (Pepys,  i,  72) 342 

61.  THE  JUDGMENT  OF  SOLOMON  (1630.?).  (Pepys, 
1,30) 350 

MARRIED  LIFE  (1630?).  (Pepys,  I,  394)       .         .         -356 

STRONG  BEER  (1630?).  (Pepys,  i,  438)     .         .         .361 



No.  PAGE 


By  Martin  Parker.   (Pepys,  i,  194)  .         .  .  -365 

THE  EXAMPLE  OF  JOHN  RUSSELL  (163 1).   (Pepys, 

h  148) 370 

66.  NEWS  FROM  THE  TOWER  HILL  (163 1).  By  Martin 
Parker.    (Pepys,  i,  266)  .......        376 

(1631.'').    By  Martin  Parker.    (Pepys,  i,  314)    .  .  .        380 

LAND (1632).   (Pepys,  I,  74) 386 

69.  IT  IS  BAD  JESTING  WITH  A  HALTER  (1632).  By 
Robert  Guy.   (Pepys,  i,  440)   ......       393 

70.  NEWS  FROM  HOLLAND'S  LEAGUER  (1632).  By 
Laurence  Price.   (Pepys,  i,  98)         .....       399 

71.  THE  HONEST  AGE  (1632).  By  Laurence  Price. 
(Pepys,  I,  156)         .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .       406 

72.  KNAVERY  IN  ALL  TRADES  (1632).  By  Martin 
Parker.   (Pepys,  i,  166)  .  .  .         .         .  .  .410 

WARS  AGAIN  (1632?).   (Pepys,  I,  102)  .  .  .415 

Charles  Rickets.   (Pepys,  i,  172)      .....       420 


By  Martin  Parker.   (Manchester,  ii,  2)     .  .  .  .425 

(1635).   (Wood  401/129) 431 

LOUS FISH  (1636.?).  By  Martin  Parker.  (Wood 
401/127) 437 



No.  PAGE 


HOLIDAY  (1637).    By  Laurence  Price.   (Pepys,  i,  442)       443 

STER (1639).   By  Laurence  Price.   (Wood  401/135)        .       449 

Laurence  Price.   (Wood  401/137)  ....       455 

INDEX  OF  TITLES,  FIRST  LINES,  AND  TUNES         .       461 



Three  London  Porters,  1605.   (Pepys,  i,  196)  .         .         .  12 

Supposed   Meeting   between   the   Danish  and   Swedish  Am- 
bassadors, 161 3.   (Pepys,  I,  100)       .  .         .         .         .         45 

A  Jacobean  Rat-Catch er.    (Pepys,  i,  458)        ....  61 

The  Murder  of  John  Wallen  by  his  Wife.   (Pepys,  i,  124)      .  84 

The  Witch  Joan  Flower  and  her  Daughters.    (Pepys,  i,  132)         97 

Imaginary  Portrait  of  Johan  Van  Oldenbarneveldt.   (Pepys, 

I,  108) 105 

Countess   Marguerite   of   Henneberg  and  a  Beggarwoman. 

(Pepys,  I,  44) 125 

Countess  Marguerite  and  her  365  Children   (Pepys,  i,  44)    .        129 

The  Ware  PosT-BoY.   (Pepys,  i,  212) 140 

The  Public  Degradation  of  Sir  Francis  Michell,  J. P.  (Pepys, 

I,  142) H7 



Pretended  View  of  Cork  City.   (Pepys,  i,  68) 

"Husband,  Beware  the  Stocks."   (Pepys,  i,  214) 

A  Swearing  Fiddler  in  the  Stocks.   (Pepys,  i,  214) 

The  Massacre  at  Amboyna.   (Pepys,  i,  94) 

An  Apprentice  tortured  by  his  Master.   (Pepys,  i,  116) 

Mr  George  Sandys  and  his  Valet.   (Pepys,  i,  128) 

Dr  John  Lamb,  the  Conjurer,  and  his  Devil.   (Pepys,  i,  134) 

The  Arrest  of  Alice  Davis,  Murderess.   (Pepys,  i,  120) 

Beware  the  Fool's  Bolt.   (Pepys,  i,  178) 

A  Hunter  and  his  Hounds.   (Pepys,  i,  274)     . 

Nicholas  Wood,  the  Great  Eater.   (Pepys,  i,  72)  . 

The  Judgment  of  Solomon.   (Pepys,  i,  30) 

John  Russell,  an  Engrosser  of  Corn,  Ploughing.  (Pepys,  i,  148) 

The  Defence  of  "Holland's  Leaguer."   (Pepys,  i,  98)    . 

A  Monstrous  Fish  at  Worwell,  Cheshire.   (Wood  401/127) 

Tannakin  Skinker,  the  Hog-Faced  Lady.   (Wood  401/135) 










Francis'^  new  jig 

Pepys,  I,  226,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  five  columns. 

This  ballad  is  of  the  very  highest  importance,  for  it  is  the  only  printed 
copy  extant,  so  far  as  is  known,  of  a  genuine  Elizabethan  dramatic  jig  (cf. 
pp.  xivfF.).  It  belongs  to  the  original  edition  that  was  licensed  for  publica- 
tion to  Thomas  Gosson  on  October  14,  i  595  (Arber's  Transcript,  in,  49), 
as  "A  pretie  newe  J[i]gge  betwene  ffrancis  the  gentleman  Richard  the 
farmer  and  theire  wyves."  Another  version  is  preserved  in  manuscript 
{QXzxV!^  Skirburii  Ballads,  pp.  244-254)  under  the  title,  "Mr.  Attowel's 
Jigge:  betweene  Francis,  a  Gentleman;  Richard,  a  farmer;  and  their 
wives."  The  printed  sheet  has  a  number  of  misprints,  and  is  occasionally 
inaccurate  in  its  attribution  of  lines  to  the  speakers,  but  is  far  superior  to 
the  Shirburn  copy  (6".).  It  differs  from  S.  in  many  details,  corrects  it  in 
others,  and  is  three  stanzas  longer.  A  collation  of  the  two  versions  is  made 
in  the  notes.  A  few  stage  directions  have  been  inserted  in  the  text  between 
square  brackets. 

George  Attowell,  or  Atwell,  was  himself  a  prominent  Elizabethan  actor. 
He  is  mentioned  in  Henslowe's  Diary  (ed.  W.  W.  Greg,  i,  6,  11,  240; 
cf.  Murray's  English  Dramatic  Companies,  i,  15)  three  times:  on  Decem- 
ber 27,  I  590,  and  February  16,  i  591,  when  he  received  payment  on  behalf 
of  the  combined  Lord  Strange's  and  Lord  Admiral's  players  for  perform- 
ances at  the  Court;  and  on  June  i,  1595,  when  he  was  probably  a  member 
of  the  Queen's  Company.  It  may  well  be  doubted  whether  Atwell  did 
anything  more  than  dance  in  the  jig;  his  name  was  probably  signed  to  it 
from  that  fact  alone — not  because  he  was  the  author — just  as  the  author- 
ship of  the  jigs  in  which  William  Kemp  danced  was  foisted  on  that  famous 
comedian  (see  his  Nine  Days'  Wonder,  1600).  It  is  strange,  however,  that 
for  more  than  three  hundred  years  the  jig  itself  and  Atwell's  connection 
with  it  have  remained  unknown. 

The  tune  of  As  I  went  to  Walsingham  is  given  both  in  the  Shirburn 
Ballads  and  in  William  Chappell's  Popular  Music  of  the  Olden  Time,  i 
121.  It  applies  only  to  the  first  division  of  the  ballad.  Bugle  Bow  and  the 
Jewish  Dance  are  apparently  unknown:  with  the  latter  Clark  suggests  a 
comparison  with  the  ballad  of  eighteen-line  stanzas  in  the  Roxburghe 
Ballads,  VI,  490;  with  the  former  may  be  compared  a  ballad  of  "The 
Bugle  Bow,  or  A  Merry  Match  of  Shooting.  The  Tune  is.  My  Husband 
is  a  Carpenter;  or,  The  Oil  of  Care""""  (Pepys,  in,  118;  Crawford,  No.  1 23 1 ; 
British  Museum,  C.  22.  f.  14(90)).  With  the  plot  itself  compare  Measure 
for  Measure  and  the  analogues  of  the  story  cited  by  various  Shakespearean 

R.P.G.  I  A 


Jfraumisi  netti  Sigge,  bettoeene  jrraunci£f  a  (Gentleman, 
anb  i^icljarb  a  Jf armer. 

To  the  tune  of  Walsingham. 


1  AS  I  went  to  Walsingham, 
■t\  to  the  shrine  with  speed, 
Met  I  with  a  iolly  Palmer, 

in  a  Pilgrims  weede.  [Enter  Francis] 

Now  God  you^  saue  you  iolly  Palmer. 

Fran.  Welcome  Lady  gay. 
Oft  haue  I  sued  to  thee  for  loue. 

B.  Oft  haue  I  said  you  nay. 

2  F.  My  loue  is  fixed.   B.  And  so  is  mine, 

but  not  on  you: 
For  to  my  husband  whilst  I  Hue, 

I  will  euer  be  true. 
F.  He  giue  thee  gold  and  rich  array. 

B.  Which  I  shall  buy  too  deare. 
F.  Nought  shalt  thou  want :  then  say  not  nay. 

B.  Naught  would  you  make  mee  I  feare. 

3  What  though  you  be  a  Gentleman, 

and  haue  lands  great^  store? 
I  will  be  chaste  doe  what  you  can, 

though  I  Hue  ne're^  so  poore. 
F.  Thy  beauty  rare  hath  wounded  mee, 

and  pierst  my  heart. 
B.  Your  foolish  loue  doth  trouble  mee, 

pray  you  Sir  depart. 

4  F.  Then  tel  mee  sweet  wilt  thou  consent 

vnto  my  desire: 
B.  And  if  I  should,  then  tel  me  sir, 
what  is  it  you  require  ? 

S.  omits.  2  lands  great :  land  and  good  S.  ^  never  S. 


F.   For  to  inioy  thee  as  my  loue. 

B,  Sir  you  haue  a  wife : 
Therefore  let  your  sute  haue  an  end. 

F.   First  will  I  lose  my  life. 

5  All  that  I  haue  thou  shalt  commaund. 

B.  Then  my  loue  you  haue. 
F,  Your  meaning  I  well^  vnderstand. 

B.   I  yeeld  to  what  you  craue. 
F.   But  tel  mee  sweet  when  shall  I  enioy 

my  hearts  delight. 
B.   I  prethee^  sweete  heart  be  not  coy, 

euen  soone  at  night. 

6  My  husband  is  rid  ten  miles  from  home, 

money  to  receiue: 
In  the  euening  see  you  come. 

F.  Til  then  I  take  my  leaue.  (Exit. 

B.  Thus  haue  I  rid  my  hands^  full  well 

of  my  amorous  loue, 
And  my  sweet  husband  wil  I  tell, 

how  hee  doth  me  moue. 

Enter  Richard  Besses  husband. 
To  the  tune  of  the  lewisk  dance. 

7  Rich.   Hey  doune  a  doune, 

hey  doune,  a  doune  a  doune, 
There  is  neuer  a  lusty  Farmer, 

in  all  our  towne: 
That  hath  more  cause, 

to  lead  a  merry  life. 
Then  I  that  am  married 

to  an  honest  faithfulH  wife. 
B.   I  thanke  you  gentle  husband, 

you  praise  mee  to  my  face. 
R.   I  cry  thee  mercy,  Bessee, 

I  knew  thee  not  in  place. 
*•  well  \  S.         2  praye  the  S.         ^  husband  S.         *  S.  omits. 

X  A2 


8  B.  Beleeue  me  gentle  husband, 

if  you  knew  as  much  as  I, 
The  words  that  you  haue  spoken, 

you  quickly  would  deny: 
For  since  you  went  from  home, 

A  sutor  I  haue  had, 
Who  is  so  farre  in  loue  with  mee, 

that  he  is  almost  madde. 
Heele  giue  me  gold  and  siluer^  store, 

and  money  for  to  spend. 
And  I  haue  promis'd  him  therefore, 

to  be  his  louing  friend. 

9  R.   Beleeue  me,  gentle  wife, 

but  this  makes  mee  to  frowne, 
There  is  no  gentleman  nor^  knight, 

nor  Lord  of  high  renowne: 
That  shall  enioy  thy  loue,  gyrle, 

though  he  were  ne're  so  good : 
Before  he  wrong  my  Bessee  so. 

He  spend  on  him  my  blood. 
And  therefore  tell  me  who  it  is 

that  doth  desire  thy  loue. 
B.   Our  neighbour  master  Francis  3, 

that  often  did  me  moue. 

lo   To  whom  I  gaue  consent, 

his  mind  for  to  fulfill. 
And  promis'd  him  this  night, 

that  he  should  haue  his  will : 
Nay  doe  not  frowne,  good  Dickie, 

but  heare  me  speake  my  minde: 
For  thou  shalt  see  He  warrant  thee. 

He  vse  him  in  his  kind. 
For  vnto  thee  I  will  be  true, 

so  long  as  I  doe  Hue, 
He  neuer  change  thee  for  a  new, 

nor  once  my  mind  so  giue. 
1  Jewels  S.  ^  ox  S.  ^  S.  adds  'tis. 


1 1  Goe  you  to  mistrisse  Frauncis, 

and  this  to  her  declare: 
And  will  her  with  all  speed, 

to  my  house  to  repaire : 
Where  shee  and  ile  deuise 

some  pretty  knauish  wile: 
For  I  haue  layd  the  plot, 

hfer  husband  to  beguile. 
Make  hast  I  pray  and^  tarry  not, 

for  long  he  will  not  stay. 
R.   Feare  not,  ile  tell  her  such  a  tale, 

shall  make  her  come  away.  [Exii] 

12  B.  Now  Besse  bethinke  thee,^ 

what  thou  hast  to  doe. 
Thy  louer  will  come  presently, 

and  hardly  will  he  woo: 
I  will  teach  my  Gentleman, 

a  tricke  that  he  may  know, 
I  am  too  craftie  and  too  wise, 

to  be  ore-reached  so: 
But  heere  he  comes  now:  not  a  word, 

but  fall  to  worke  againe.  she  sowes     {Enter  F.] 
F.   How  now  sweetheart,  at  worke  so  hard. 

B.   I  sir^,  I  must  take  paines^. 

1 3  F.  But  say,  my  louely  sweeting, 

thy  promise  wilt  thou  keepe  r 
Shall  I  enioy  thy  loue, 

this  night  with  me  to  sleeper 
B.   My  husband  rid^  from  home, 

heere  safely  may  you^  stay. 
F.  And  I  haue  made  my  wife  beleeue 

I  rid  another  way. 

^  yow  S. 

2  This  line  in  S.  runs,  Make  hast  sweet  Francis,  which  Clark  amends  to 
Make  haste,  then,  my  sweet  Richard. 

3  Le.  aye,  sir.         *  Read  paine  S.         ^  is  rid  S.         ^  yow  may  .S". 



B.   Goe  in  good  sir,  what  ere  betide, 

this  night  and  lodge  with  mee. 
F.  The  happiest  night  that  euer  I  had, 

thy  friend  still  will  I  bee.     [Exit  F.  Bess  retires] 

Enter  Mistris  Frauncis  with  Richard, 

To  the  tune  of  Bugle  Boe. 

Imprinted  at  London  for  I.W.i 

Ws^t  ^econii  part  of  Attoweis  neto  3igse. 

To  the  tune  oi  as  I  went  to  Walsingham'^. 

14    /F.  T  Thankc  you  neighbour  Richard, 
1      for  bringing  me  this  newes : 
R.  Nay,  thanke  my  wife  that  loues  me  so^, 

and  will  not  you^  abuse. 
W.   But  see  whereas  shee  stands, 

and  waiteth  our  return. 
R.  You  must  goe  coole  your  husbands  heate, 

that  so  in  loue  doth  burne. 
B.  Now  Dickie  welcome  home, 

and  Mistris  welcome  hither: 
Grieue  not  although  you  finde 

your  husband  and  I  together. 
For  you  shall  haue  your  right, 

nor  will  I  wrong  you  so: 
Then  change  apparrell  with  me  straight^, 

and  vnto  him  doe  goe. 
W.  For  this  your  kind  goodwill  5, 

a  thousand  thankes  I  giue: 
And  make  account  I  will  requite 

this  kindnesse,  if  I  Hue. 

1  These  are  printer's  insertions  due  to  the  fact  that  the  first  part  and 
the  second  column  ended  here.    Both  should  be  omitted. 

2  S.  omits.  3  me  -y.  *  S.  omits. 
^  This  line  and  the  following  seven  lines  are  not  in  S. 



B.   I  hope  it  shall  not  need, 

Dick  will  not  serue  me  so: 
I  know  he  loues  me  not  so  ill, 

a  ranging  for  to  goe. 
R.  No  faith,  my  louely  Besse, 

first  will  P  lose  my  life: 
Before  Ile^  breake  my  wedlock  bonds, 

or^  seeke  to  wrong  my  wife.  [Exit  IV. '] 

Now  thinks  good  Master  Frauncis, 

he  hath  thee  in  his  bed: 
And  makes  account  he  is  grafting 

of  homes  vpon  my  head. 
But  softly  stand  aside, 

now  shall  wee  know  his  minde. 
And  how  hee  would  haue  vsed  thee, 

if  thou  hadst  beene  so  kind. 

Enter  Master  Francis  with  his  owne  wije^  hauing  a 
maske  before  her  face  ^  supposing  her  to  be  Besse. 

To  the  tune  o^  goe  from  my  window. 

1 5    F.   Farewell  my  ioy  and  hearts  delight, 
til  next  wee  meete  againe : 
Thy  kindnes  to  requite,  for  lodging  me  al  night, 

heeres  ten  pound  for  thy  paine: 
And  more  to  shew  my  loue  to  thee, 

weare  this  ring  for  my  sake. 
IV.  Without  your  gold  or  fee  you  shal  haue  more  of 
F.  No  doubt  of  that  I  make. 
JV.'^  Then  let  your  loue  continue  still. 

F.   It  shall  ^  til  life  doth  end. 
JV.  Your  wife  I  greatly  feare.  F.  for  her  thou  needst 
not  care, 
so  I  remaine  thy  freind^. 

1  I  will  S.  ^  IS.  3  to  S. 

^  Really  a  new  stanza.  ^  shall  be  S.  *  -S".  omiis  this  line. 


W.  But  youle  suspect  me  without  cause, 

that  I  am  false  to  you : 
And  then  youle  cast  mee  off,  and  make  mee  but  a 

since  that  I  proue  vntrue. 

1 6  F.  Then  neuer  trust  man  for  my  sake, 

if  I  proue  so  vnkind: 
[/^.]   So  often  haue  you  sworn,  sir,  since  that  you 
were  borne, 

and  soone  haue^  changde  your  minde. 
[F.]   Nor  wife  nor  life,  nor  goods  nor  lands, 

shall  make  me  leaue  my  loue, 
Nor  any  worldly  treasure  make  me  forgoe^  my  pleasure, 

nor  once  my  mind  remoue. 

1 7  W,   But  soft  a  while,  who  is  yonder  ?  doe  you  see 

my  husband?  out  alasse. 
F.  And  yonder  is  my  wife,  now  shal  we  haue  alife 

how  commeth  this  to  passe? 
R.   Com  hither  gentle  Besse  I  charge  thee  do  confesse 

what  makes  Master  Francis  heere. 
5.^   Good  husband  pardon  me.  He  tel  the  troth  to  thee. 

R.  Then  speake  and  doe  not  feare. 

1 8  F.  Nay,  neighbour  Richard  harke  to  mee, 

lie  tel  the  troth  to  you. 
W?"   Nay  tell  it  vnto  me,  good  sir^,  that  I  may^  see, 

what  you  haue  here  to  doe. 
But'  you  can  make  no  scuse  to  colour  this  abuse, 

this  wrong  is  too  too  great. 
R.  Good  sir  I  take  great  scorne  you  should  profer  me 
the  home. 
W.  Now  must  I  coole  this^  heate. 

\Wife  unmasks] 

^  haue  soone  6".  ^  forget  S.  ^     So  S.,  but  read  W. 

*  Read  B.  {S.  gives  these  two  lines  to  Francis,  but  they  are  undoubtedly 
intended  for  Bess,  who  is  still  disguised  as  Mrs  Francis.) 
5  S.  omits  good  sir.  ®  may  quickly  S. 

'  In  S.  Bess  begins  to  speak  here.  ^  his  S. 



19  F}   Nay  neighbour  Richard  be  content, 

thou  hast  no  wrong  at  all  : 
Thy  wife  hath  done  thee  right,  and  pleasurde  me  this 
F.  This  frets  mee  to  the  gall. 
Good  wife  forgiue  me  this  offence, 

I  doe  repent  mine  ill. 
fV.   I  thank  you  with  mine  hart,  for  playing  this  kind 
though  sore  against  your^  will. 

20  Nay  gentle  husband  frowne  not  so, 

for  you  haue  made  amends : 
I  thinke  it  is  good  gaine,  to  haue  ten  pound  for  my 
paine^  : 

then  let  vs  both  be  friends, 
F.  Ashamed  I  am  and  know  not  what  to  say, 

good  wife  forgiue  this  crime*: 
Alasse  I  doe  repent.      PF.  Tut  I  could  be  content, 

to  be  serued  so  many  a  time. 

21  F.   Good  neighbour  Richard  be  content, 

ile  woo  thy  wife  no  more : 
I  haue  enough  of  this.      PF.  Then  all  forgiuen  is. 

I  thanke  thee  Dick  therefore. 
And  to  thy  wife  ile  giue  this  gold, 

I  hope  youle  not  say  no: 
Since  I  haue  had  the  pleasure,  let  her  enioy  the  treasure. 

F.   Good  wife  let  it  be  so^. 

22  B.   I  thank  you  gentle  Mistris.     R.   Faith  &  so  do  I. 

sir,  learne  your  owne  wife  to  know: 
And  shoote  not  in  the  darke,  for  feare  you  mis  the 
B.   He  hath  paid  for  this  I  trow. 

1  Read  W.  The  wife  addresses  Richard  in  the  first  two  lines  and  her 
husband  in  the  last  line. 

2  my  S.  ^  paynes  S. 

*  me  this  tyme  S.  ^  S.  ends  here. 



All  women  learn  of  me.     F.  All  men  by  me  take  heed 

how  you  a  woman  trust. 
fF.  Nay  women  trust  no  men.     F.  And  if  they  do: 
how  then  ? 

PF.  Ther's  few  of  them  prooue  iust. 

23    Farewell  neighbour  Richard,  farewell  honest  Besse 
I  hope  wee  are  all  friends. 
fV}  And  if  you  stay  at  home,  and  vse  not  thus  to 
heere  all  our  quarrell  ends.     . 


George  Attowell? 

At  London  Printed  for  I.W.2 
1  Read  R.  2  ^ot  in  S. 


Commendation  of  porters 

Pepys,  I,  196,  B.L.,  three  columns.  There  is  one  large  cut  (here  repro- 
duced) in  which  a  porter  is  first  depicted  as  standing  idle  with  an  empty 
basket,  next  as  walking  with  a  heavy  load  in  his  basket,  and  finally  as  setting 
out  in  holiday  costume  for  a  meeting  of  his  society.  Above  the  figures  are 
printed  the  headings,  "At  the  first  went  we,  as  here  you  see,"  "But  since 
our  Corporation,  on  this  fashion,"  "And  to  our  Hall,  thus  we  goe  all." 

Nobody  will  deny  the  interest  of  this  account  of  how  the  1041  porters 
in  London  formed  a  corporation  and  secured  a  Hall  for  meetings.  Here  we 
see  a  worshipful  company  in  the  making!  More  interesting,  however,  is 
the  author.  Thomas  Brewer  is  now  remembered  because  of  his  prose  tract 
The  Merry  Devil  of  Edmonton^  which  was  registered  for  publication  on 
April  5,  1608.  The  ballad,  which  is  omitted  in  the  list  of  Brewer's  publica- 
tions given  in  the  Dictionary  of  National  Biography,  was  registered  on 
June  I  5,  1605  (Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  292).  No  early  copy  of  The  Merry 
Devil h  extant;  but  from  the  ballad  it  is  evident  that  in  1 605-1 608  Brewer 
was  "flourishing."  He  appears,  further,  to  have  been  a  common  person 
who  applauded  manual  labour;  and  the  entry  at  Stationers'  Hall  on 
January  14,  1609  {ibid.  p.  399)  of  "A  ballad  made  by  Thomas  Brew[er]. 
of  the  Twoo  monstruous  births  in  Devon  and  Plymmouth  in  November 
last"  indicates  that  he  was,  like  Antony  Munday,  more  or  less  a  professional 
ballad-writer.  Like  Munday,  too,  he  wrote  a  number  of  dramatic  com- 
positions. His  J  knot  of  Fooles,  preserved  in  editions  of  1624  and  1658, 
was  almost  certainly,  I  think,  the  Knott  of  Fooles  that,  along  with  Shake- 
speare's Tempest  and  twelve  other  court  entertainments  (see  the  list  in 
H.  H.  Furness's  Nezv  Variorum  Tempest,  p.  275),  was  performed  before 
the  Princess  Elizabeth  and  Frederick,  the  Elector  Palatine,  in  161 3.  His 
ideals  of  poetry  are  sufficiently  revealed  by  the  fact  that  in  1630  he 
contributed  highly  laudatory  verses  to  the  folio  edition  of  the  works  of 
John  Taylor,  the  Water  Poet.  Possibly  he  was  the  "Thom:  Brewer,  my 
Mus :  Servant,  [who]  through  his  proneness  to  goodfellowshippe ...  at- 
tained to  a  very  rich  and  rubicund  nose,"  mentioned  by  Sir  Nicholas 
Lestrange  (1603-1655)  {Anecdotes  and  Traditions,  ed.  W.  J.  Thorns, 
Camden  Society,  1839,  p.  76). 

The  tune  is  unknown. 



^  nebbe  fallal),  composieb  tn  commenbation  of  tfie 
^ocietie,  or  Companie  of  tfie  ^orterfli. 

To  the  tune  of,  In  Edenbrugh,  behold. 

Atlhtfir(ltBcnthr,M  *>rTCjl^i(tt. 

Bmfittt  larCirfirnian.epttiufiih'ufi. 

Atl/lll  a»r  HiUji^i  mt^MgtF. 

THrise  blessed  is  that  Land 
where  King  and  Rulers  bee, 
and  men  of  great  Command 
that  carefull  are  to  see, 
that  carefull  are  to  see, 
the  Commons  good  mantainde 
by  friendly  vnitie, 
the  proppe  of  any  land. 

Then  blessed  is  this  Land 
by  our  dread  soueraignes  raigne, 
whose  prudence  in  command, 
doth  all  estates  maintaine: 
[his  helpe]!  to  comfort  all 
is  vnto  all  extended  : 
rich,  poore,  both  great  and  small, 
are  by  his  care  defended. 

^  Torn  off. 


3  As  plainly  doth  appeare, 
by  that  was  lately  done, 

for  them  that  burthens  beare, 

and  doe  on  businesse  runne: 

the  Porters  of  this  Cittie, 

some  being  men  of  Trade, 

but  now  the  more,  the  more  the  pitty 

by  crosses  are  decayde. 

4  Yet  bearing  honest  mindes, 
their  charge  for  to  maintaine, 
as  Gods  command  them  bindes, 
with  trauell  and  with  paine: 
they  all  haue  wisely  ioynd, 

for  that  they  haue  effected, 
their  company  to  binde 
and  make  it  more  respected. 

5  Now  they  that  were  before 
of  meanest  estimation, 

by  suite  haue  salude  that  sore, 
and  gainde  a  Corporation : 
excludes,  and  shuts  out  many 
that  were  of  base  esteeme, 
and  will  not  suffer  any 
such  person  bide  with  them. 

6  But  such  as  well  are  knov/en, 
and  honest  Acts  imbrace: 
among  them  theile  haue  none 
that  haue  no  biding  place: 
among  them  theile  haue  none 
(as  neare  as  they  can  nnde) 
but  such  as  well  are  knowen 

to  beare  an  honest  minde. 

7  For  now  vnto  their  hall 

they  pay  their  quarteridge  downe, 
attending  maisters  call, 
and  fearing  maisters  frowne, 



there  seeking  for  redresse 
and  right  if  they  haue  wrong, 
there,  they  that  doe  transgresse 
haue  that  to  them  doth  long. 

8  If  there  be  any  one 

of  them,  a  burthen  takes, 
and  with  the  same  be  gone: 
their  hall,  the  owner  makes 
sufficient  satisfaction 
for  that  that  he  hath  lost: 
the  theefe  without  redemption, 
out  of  their  numbers  crost. 

9  It  is  a  better  order 
then  that  they  had  before, 
when  as  the  malefactor 
was  on  a  coultstaffe  bore: 

for  th'  owner  tis  much  better, 
but  for  th'  offender  worse, 
to  taste  this  newe  made  order, 
then  ride  a  wooden  horse. 

10  That  shame  was  soone  slipt  ouer, 
soone  in  obliuion  drownde, 

and  then  againe,  another 
would  in  like  fault  be  found: 
not  caring  for  their  credit, 
and  trust  another  time, 
this  orders  therefore  as  a  bit 
to  hold  them  from  that  crime. 

1 1  They  that  are  rash,  and  rude, 
and  obstinately  runne 

as  their  owne  willes  conclude, 
and  cannot  well  be  wonne 
to  condescend,  and  stand 
to  orders  they  haue  made, 
by  the  Rulers  out  of  hand, 
haue  fines  vppon  them  laide. 



12  All  iarres  and  braules  are  bard 
that  mongst  them  might  arise, 
first  commer,  first  is  serude, 
where  as  a  burthen  lyes, 

if  one  be  ready  there 
he  must  his  profite  take: 
all  other  must  forbeare 
and  no  resistance  make. 

13  Such  as  haue  long  bin  knowen 
to  vse  this  bearing  trade, 

and  into  yeares  are  growen, 
(so  that  their  strengths  decayde) 
they  can  no  longer  labour 
as  they  haue  done  before, 
the  Companie  doth  succour 
and  maintaine  euermore. 

14  These  and  a  many  moe 
good  orders  they  haue,  sure, 
to  make  rude  fellowes  know 
their  stoutnesse,  doth  procure 
but  their  owne  detriment 
and  losse,  if  they  could  see't: 
and  likewise  to  augment 

their  generall  good,  there  meete. 

1 5  For  great  is  the  number 
of  this  Societie : 

and  many  without  order 
can  neuer  setled  bee; 
but  things  will  be  amisse, 
as  oft  it  hath  bin  knowen, 
the  number  of  them  is, 
a  thousand  fortie  one. 

1 6  They  all  mette  together, 
most  hansomely  arlyde, 

at  Christ  churchy  to  heare  there 
a  sermon,  for  them  made. 



There  markes  of  Admittaince 
made  out  of  tinne,  they  bare 
about  their  neckes  in  ribbons: 
the  chiefe,  of  siluer  weare. 

17  To  haue  seene  them  so,  you'd  wonder, 
so  many  should  maintaine 
themselues,  by  such  a  labour, 

but  that,  thats  got  with  paine, 
God  doth  increase  and  blesse: 
for  God^  himselfe  hath  sed, 
with  paine  and  wearinesse, 
we  all  should  get  our  bread. 

1 8  Thus  therefore  I  conclude, 
more  happie  men  are  they, 
then  many  that  delude 

the  world,  and  beare  away 
the  sweete  of  poore  mens  labour 
their  chests  to  cram  and  stuffe, 
not  caring  for  Gods  fauour, 
so  they  haue  golde  enough. 

19  Our  royall  King  and  Oueene 
thou  King  of  Kings  defend, 

as  thou  to  them  hast  beene 
most  mercifull  and  kinder 
thy  loue  to  them  increase, 
blesse  all  they  vndertake : 
His  Counsels  counsell,  blesse, 
euen  for  thy  deare  sons  sake. 


Tho.  Brewer. 

Imprinted  at  London  by  Thomas  Creed,  and  are  to  be 

solde  at  the  signe  of  the  Eagle  and  chiide,  in 

the  olde  Chaunge.   1605. 

^  Text  good. 



Caleb  Shillock's  prophecy 

Pepys,  I,  38,  B.L.,  one  woodcut,  three  columns. 

The  ballad  is  a  poetical  rendering  of  part  of  a  prose  pamphlet  called 
Nerves  from  Rome.  .  .J ho  certaine  prophecies  of  a  lew  seruing  to  that  Armie^ 
called  Caleb  Shil\ock\  which  was  "Translated  out  of  Italian  into  English, 
by  W.  W."  in  1607.  From  the  slightly  mutilated  copy  in  the  British 
Museum  (C.  32.  d.  26),  sigs.  B  3^'-B  4,  the  prophecy  is  quoted.  Square 
brackets  indicate,  as  in  the  title  quoted  above,  tears  in  the  text. 

Caleb  Shilock  his  prophesie,  for  the  yeere,  1607. 

Be  it  knowne  vnto  all  men,  that  in  the  yeere  1607.  when  as  the  Moone 
is  in  the  watrie  signe,  the  world  is  like  to  bee  in  great  danger:  for  a  learned 
Jew,  named  Caleb  Shilock,  doth  write,  that  in  the  foresaid  yeere,  the  Sun 
shall  be  couered  with  the  Dragon  in  the  morning,  from  fine  of  the  clocke 
vntill  nine,  and  will  appeare  like  fire:  therefore  it  is  not  good  that  any  man 
doe  behold  the  same,  for  by  beholding  thereof  he  may  lose  his  sight. 

Secondly,  there  shall  come  in  the  same  yeere  a  meruailous  great  flood 
of  water,  to  the  great  terror  and  amasement  of  many  people. 

Thirdly,  there  shall  arise  a  meruailous  great  wind,  and  for  feare  thereof 
many  people  shall  be  consumed,  or  distraughted  of  tteir  wits. 

Fourthlie  the  same  yeere,  about  the  month  of  May,  will  arise  another 
wonderfull  great  flood,  and  so  great  as  no  man  hath  seene  since  Noyes 
flood,  which  wil  continue  three  dales  and  three  nights,  whereby  many 
Citties  and  Town[es]  which  standeth  vppon  sandie  ground  will  be  in 
[grejat  danger. 

Fiftly,  Infidels  and  Hereticks,  through  great  feare  and  dread,  will  flie 
and  gather  together,  and  asmuch  as  in  them  lies,  make  war  against  Christian 

Sixtlie,  in  the  same  yeere  after  the  great  waters  be  past,  about  the  end 
of  the  yeere  will  be  very  great  and  fearefull  Sicknesses:  so  that  many 
people  are  like  to  die  by  the  infection  of  strange  diseases. 

Seauenthly,  there  will  be  throughout  the  Worlde  great  trouble  and 
contention  about  matters  of  Religion,  and  wonderfull  strange  newes  vnto 
all  people,  as  concerning  the  same. 

Eightly,  the  Turke  with  his  God  Mahomet  shall  bee  in  danger  to  lose 
his  Septer,  through  the  great  change  and  alteration  in  his  Regiment,  by 
reason  of  famine  and  warres,  so  that  the  most  part  of  his  people  will  rather 
seeke  reliefe  from  the  Christian,  then  from  him. 




Ninthlie,  there  will  also  arise  great  Earth-quakes,  whereby  diuers  goodly 
buildings  &  high  houses,  are  like  to  be  ouerthrowne  and  ruinated. 

Lasdie,  there  will  be  great  remoouings  of  the  earth  in  diuers  places,  so 
that  for  feare  thereof,  many  people  will  be  in  a  strange  amazement  and 

These  punishments  are  prognosticated  by  this  learned  Jew,  to  fall  vppon 
the  whole  world  by  reason  of  sinne,  wherefore  it  behooueth  all  Christian 
[/;V]  to  amend  their  euill  Hues,  and  to  pray  earnestly  vnto  GOD  to  with- 
hold these  calamities  from  vs,  and  to  conuart  our  harts  wholy  to  him, 
whereby  we  may  find  fauour  in  our  time  of  neede,  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord.  Amen. 

Certain  scholars  have  suggested  that  from  this  pamphlet  Shakespeare 
got  the  name  Shy  lock  for  his  Merchant  of  Venice  (Sir  A.  W.  Ward,  History 
of  English  Dramatic  Literature,  ii,  107).  For  the  tune  cf.  the  notes  to 
No.  49. 

Caletjtje  ^tiUocfee,  fjis:  ^ropljesiie :  or, 
tfie  Vetoes!  ^retiiction. 

To  the  tune  of  Bragandarie . 

I    nr^O  Caleb  Shillocks  Prophesies, 
-1-  Who  Hst  to  lend  an  eare, 
Of  griefe,  and  great  calamities^, 
A  sad  Discourse  shall  heare: 

Of  Plagues  (for  sinne)  shall  soone  ensew 
Prognosticated  by  this  lew: 
O  Lord^  Lord  in  thy  mercy^ 
Hold  thy  heauy  hand. 

1    And  first,  within  this  present  yeere, 
Beeing  Sixteene  hundreth  seau'n: 
The  Prince  of  Planets  shall  appeare. 
Like  flaming  Fire  in  heau'n, 

Like  flaming  Fire  his  radiant  rayes 
To  all  shall  seeme  (old  S hillock  sayes.) 
O  Lord^  Lord  in  thy  mercie. 
Hold  thy  heauie  hand. 

1  Text  calamitie. 


3  No  mortall  man  shall  able  bee, 
(As  he  affirmes)  to  looke 
Upon  this  fearefull  Progedie, 
This  sinners  bloody  Booke: 

this  booke,  by  which  he  soone  may  know 
the  cause  of  all  our  griefe  and  woe. 
O  Lord^  Lord  in  thy  mercie,  ^c. 

4  For  he  that  dares  to  gaze  vpon 
The  Sunne,  so  dreadfull-bright. 
Shall  neuer  after  gaze  vpon 
An  obiect  sad,  or  light: 

But  suddainly  be  striken  blind, 
As  leaues  are  shaken  with  the  wind. 
O  Lord^  Lord  in  thy  mercie^  ^c. 

5  And  next  to  this,  old  Shillock  sayes. 
The  waters  shall  arise. 

And  set  a  period  to  the  dayes 

Of  many  fond,  and  wise: 

And  all  that  know't  by  eye,  or  eare, 
shal  stand  (almost)  distraught  with  feare. 
O  Lord,  Lord  in  thy  mercie,  ^c. 

6  And  after  this  hath  playde  his  part, 
In  Calebs  Scrowle  I  finde, 
Another  woe  to  wound  the  heart. 
And  terrifie  the  minde: 

The  winds  (he  sayes)  shall  strangly  blow 
And  strong-built  Houses  ouerthrow. 
O  Lordy  Lord  in  thy  mercie,  ^c. 

7  With  greater  Waters  after  this, 
The  Earth  shall  plagued  bee. 
So  sore  our  God  incensed  is, 
By  our  impietie: 

So  sore  a  Flood  since  godly  Noe, 
As  is  to  come,  neare  man  did  know. 
O  Lord^  Lord  in  thy  mercie,  ^c. 




8  Three  dayes  this  Flood  the  Land  shal  hide 
This  learned  Caleb  writes, 

Within  her  watry  mantle,  wide : 
And  iust  as  many  nights. 

O  then  imagine  you  the  rest, 
the  sodaine  death  of  man  and  beast. 
O  hord^  Lord  in  thy  mercie^ 
hold  thy  heauie  hand, 

9  For  to  imagine  the  euent, 
(With  searching  care  and  heed) 
Of  such  a  wofull  accident, 
Would  make  the  heart  to  bleed : 

For  vnder  such  a  wofull  worke, 
full  many  wofull  sights  do  lurke. 
O  Lord^  Lord  in  thy  mercie^  ^c. 

10  Of  Heretickes  and  Infidels, 
A  multitude  shall  flocke 
Together,  (learned  Shillocke  telles) 
With  hope,  like  strongest  Rocke, 

to  stand  and  fight  against  all  those, 
that  power,  against  their  power  oppose. 
O  hord^^  Lord  in  thy  mercie^  &c. 

1 1  Next,  Deaths  Ambassadour  shall  come, 
To  act  his  fatall  part. 

To  summon  to  receiue  a  doome. 

According  to  desart: 

But,  to  desart,  O  gracious  Lord, 
Let  not  thy  Judgement  then  accord. 
O  Lord,  Lord  in  &€. 

12  Whole  Families  at  once,  shall  lie 
Sore  sicke  vpon  their  beddes : 

From  house  to  house  shall  Sicknesse  flie, 
When  his  infection  spreddes: 

^   Texf  Lard. 


when  he  has  paind  them,  mauger  death, 
shall  step,  to  stop  their  vitall  breath. 
O  Lord  J  Lord  in.  &c. 

1 3  Through  all  the  world.  Great  trouble,  next 
(He  sayth)  there  shall  be  seene, 

As  strife  about  the  Holy  text, 

The  meaning  altering  cleene. 
About  Religion  strife  shall  rise: 
Enlighten  Lord,  our  heartes  and  eyes. 
O  Lordj  Lord  in  thy  mercie^  ^c. 

14  The  Turke  lyes  next  in  dangers  way, 
With  Mahomet  his  God, 

(His  Diuell  rather,  I  should  say) 
to  loose  his  Regall  rod: 

For  in  his  Land  a  ciuill  strife 
shall  many  men  bereaue  of  life. 
O  Lord^  Lord  in  thy  mercie^ 
hold  thy  heauie  hand. 

1 5  From  Ciuill  warres,  shall  Famine  rise, 
And  all  that  Land  oppresse: 

In  Mahomet  no  comfort  lies, 
when  men  are  in  distresse. 

To  Christians,  shall  his  people  flie 

for  succour  in  their  miserie. 

O  Lord^  Lord  in  thy  mercie^  i^c. 

16  When  time,  has  borne  these  plagues  away. 
More  greeuous  shall  succeede. 

More  heauie  Judgements  of  the  Lord, 
Against  vs  shall  proceede. 

The  Earth  (with  wind  inclosd  therein) 
Shall  quake  and  tremble,  for  our  sinne. 
O  Lord^  Lord  in  thy  mercie. 
Hold  thy  heauie  hand. 



17    Braue  high-buylt  Houses,  on  the  earth, 
The  quaking  earth  shall  lay. 
When  many  at  their  Feastes  and  mirth. 
Their  iocund  sports  and  play 

(Mistrusting  no  such  thing)  are  set. 
Our  sinnes  desart  we  still  forget. 
O  Lord.  ^c. 

I  8    Then  (for  a  time)  the  Seas  grow  calme, 

The  Skies  are  cleere,  and  still : 
Which  time  of  stilnesse  (like  to  Balme) 
Cures  many,  greefe  would  kill  : 

But  when  our  hopes  stand  faire  for  peace 
Our  sorrowes  shall  againe  increase. 
O  Lord.  (fj'c. 

19  An  other  Earthquake  presently. 
Heart-wounding  sorrow  brings, 
Remoouing  Houses,  Churches,  hie 
Hils,  Trees,  and  other  things. 

Our  sinnes,  like  Hidras  heads,  increase, 
How  should  our  plagues  and  torments  cease  ? 
O  Lord.  ^c. 

20  It  is  the  part  (^Boetius  sayes) 
Of  men  discreete  and  wise, 

Of  wonderous  thinges  to  search  the  cause: 

For  tis  the  Simples  guise. 

To  gaze  vpon  the  thing  that 's  done, 
and  nere  looke  how,  or  why't  begun. 
O  Lord.  &c. 

I I  Then  let  vs  search  into  the  cause 
Of  these,  with  Plagues  are  past. 
That  to  repentance  they  may  drawe's 
And  to  amend  at  last. 

The  cause  is  Sin,  our  Sinn's  the  cause: 
Neclect  of  Gods  decrees,  and  lawes. 
O  Lord^  &c. 



22  O  let  vs  turne  vnto  the  Lord, 
For  he  (alone)  is  hee, 

That  can  from  water,  fire,  and  sword 

At 's  pleasure  set  vs  free. 

If  we  by  grace,  cast  Sin  away. 
By  mercy  he  his  hand  will  stay. 
O  Lord^  &c. 

23  O  Let  vs  flie  those  deadly  sinnes 
The  Conscience  ouercloyes. 

The  Conscience,  Souls  Saluation  wins 
Or  else  the  Soule  destroyes. 

Let 's  labour  then  to  keepe  it  free. 
That  God,  in  glory,  wee  may  see. 
O  Lord,  &€. 

24  O  Lord,  with  thy  all  sauing  hand 
Our  King  and  Queene  defend: 
The  Heire^  to  this  vnited  Land 
And  all  their  isshue  tend. 

The  Honorable  Counsell  blesse 
With  many  dayes,  and  happines. 
O  Lordy  Lord  in  &€. 


At  London  printed  for  T.P. 
1  I.e.  Henry,  Prince  of  Wales  (f  161 2). 


The  lamentable  complaint  of  France 

Pepys,  I,  112,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  three  columns. 

William  Barley  registered  this  ballad  on  May  15,  1610  (Arber's  Tran- 
script, III,  433),  as  "The  wofuU  complaynt  of  Ffraunce  for  the  deathe  of 
the  late  kinge  Henry  the  Ffowrth."  Fran9ois  Ravaillac  (born  in  the  town 
of  Angouleme)  killed  Henry  IV  on  May  14,  16 10  (new  style),  and  was 
executed  with  dreadful  tortures  on  May  27.  His  crime  and  punishment 
aroused  enormous  interest  in  England :  books  on  the  subject  were  registered 
for  publication  on  May  10,  May  14,  May  30  (three  entries),  16 10, 
January  12,  161 1,  and  October  10,  161 1.  (I  give  these  dates,  except  for 
the  year,  in  English,  or  old,  style.)  A  number  of  the  books  are  extant,  and 
from  one  of  them — which  is  reprinted  in  the  Harleian  Miscellany,  1810, 
VI,  607  fF. — the  account  in  the  ballad  appears  to  have  been  summarized. 
The  spirit  of  Ravaillac  appears  at  the  end  of  Dekker's  If  It  Be  Not  Good, 
The  Devil  Is  In  It,  161 2,  to  remark  that  "were  my  tongue  tome  out  with 
burning  flesh-hookes.  Fames  1000.  tonges  shall  thunder  out  Rauillacs 
name,  extoU  it,  eternise  it,  Cronicle  it.  Canonise  it!"  In  the  third  stanza 
there  is  a  description  of  the  coronation  of  Henry  I  V's  second  wife,  Maria 
de'  Medici.  Their  son,  the  Dauphin  of  the  last  three  or  four  stanzas  (Louis 
XIII),  was  born  on  September  27,  1601. 

For  a  transcript  of  this  ballad  I  am  indebted  to  Alfred  Rogers,  Esq.,  of 
the  Cambridge  University  Library. 

^fje  lamentatilei  complaint  of  jFraume,  for  t^e  beatf) 
of  ttje  late  iling  l^enrp  tfje  4.,  tofjo  toag  latelp  mur= 
breb  Ijp  one^  jfraunces;  i^amlliacfee,  borne  in  tfje  totone 
of  ^ngolsiem,  gftetoing  tfje  manner  of  W  beatJj,  anb 
of  tfje  election  anb  proclaiming  of  tfje  neto  iling 
Hetoig,  tfje  13.  of  tfjat  name,  being  a  cbilbe 
of  9.  peeres!  of  age. 

To  a  new  tune. 

^   Text  lamentabe.  2  „  upside  down  in  the  text. 



I   T^Raunce  that  is  so  famous, 
±      and  late  in  ioyes  abounded, 
May  now  lament  the  losse  of  him: 

that  mischiefe  hath  confounded. 
Their  thrice  renowned  King, 

that  Souldier  braue  and  bolde. 
In  peace  and  wars  so  well  belou'de, 

lyes  clad  in  earthly  molde. 
All  Kingdomes  come  and  mourne, 

for  this  same  sad  mischaunce: 
For  wee  haue  lost  our  Countries  King 

and  flower  of  famous  fraunce. 

2  The  bloudy  hand  that  wrought 

and  hart  that  gaue  consent: 
Now  makes  more  eies  in  France  to  weep: 

then  euer  did  lament. 
More  sighes  [anjd^  sobes  was  neuer  heard, 

then  be  in  Fraunce  this  day. 
For  euery  one  now  mourning  sits: 

this  pleasant  month  of  May. 
No  ioye,  no  hearts  delight, 

but  death  and  bloudy  deedes. 
In  euery  Coast  of  famous  Fraunce: 

much  griefe  and  sorrow  breedes. 

3  In  May  the  thirteenth  day, 

it  pleased  this  royall  King: 
To  make  his  Wife  a  Crowned  Queene, 

which  was  a  princely  thing 
Who  then  in  Triumph  rode 

along  fayre  Paris  streets, 
Whom  all  the  Lordes  &  peeres  of  Fraunce 

in  ioyfull  manner  greetes. 
And  all  the  streetes  along, 

whereas  the  Oueene  did  ride. 
Were  like  the  walles  of  Paradice, 

bedeckt  on  euery  side: 
1  Text  torn. 



4  The  royall  King  himselfe, 

the  Dolphin  his  young  sonne: 
The  lordly  Prelates  of  that  land, 

and  Barrons  many  one. 
With  all  the  states  of  Fraunce: 

there  honored  Henries  Queene, 
More  stately  triumphes  neuer  was, 

within  that  Countrie  seene. 
But  soone  thiese  glories  vanish't, 

for  death  put  in  his  hand, 
And  in  lesse  time  then  forty  houres 

made  Fraunce  a  wofull  land. 

5  This  noble  King  god  wot, 

supposing  all  good  friends: 
The  following  day  for  pleasures  sake: 

a  iourney  foorth  intends. 
Wherein  his  Coatch  he  rides, 

some  of  his  lordes  with  him. 
Along  renowned  Paris  streetes, 

being  then  deckt  out  most  trim. 
The  people  cryed  with  ioy: 

God  saue  our  Royall  King, 
The  presence  of  your  Maiestie : 

reioycing  loue  doth  bring. 

6  The  People  throngd  so  fast, 

about  him  in  the  streetes. 
That  hardly  he  could  passe  along: 

such  numbers  did  he  meete. 
Amongst  so  many  friends, 

a  Judas  hand  there  was. 
That  turnd  the  cheereful  flower  of  france 

to  fading  withered  grasse, 
Two  Coatches  by  hard  chance, 

his  graces  Passage  stayde, 
A  time  wherein  his  gentle  life, 

by  murder  was  betrayde. 



7  The  Traytour  that  three  times, 

before  had  mist  his  ayme, 
And  could  not  in  his  royall  bloud  : 

his  cursed  fingers  stayne. 
Now  desperatly  thrust  foorth: 

vnto  his  coatches  side, 
And  gaue  him  there,  2  mortall  wounds, 

by  which,  the  King  soone  dyed, 
A  cursed  knife  it  was, 

which  did  this  bloudy  deede. 
But  ten  times  cursed  be  the  cause, 

that  did  this  mischiefe  breed. 

8  The  wounded  King  cryed  out, 

then  with  a  fainting  breath: 
Oh,  saue  his  Hfe  till  hee  reueale^, 

the  plotters  of  my  death. 
The  Traytour  being  stayed, 

was  so  offence  bereauen, 
That  presently  for  this  vilde  deede: 

he  thought  to  purchase  heauen. 
Some  led  this  villaine  thence, 

and  some,  the  King  conuaide: 
Unto  his  Pallace  mournfully, 

in  bloudy  Robes  arrayde. 

9  A  natiue  frenchman  borne, 

this  wretch  is  knowne  to  be: 
Bred  in  the  Towne  of  Angolsem, 

a  Courtier  in  degree. 
Fraunces  Ravilliacke  namde, 

in  passed  time  a  Fryer, 
Maynteyned  long  about  this  court, 

to  accomplish  his  desire. 
But  who  the  causers  be: 

and  chiefest  in  this  crime. 
By  wisedome  of  the  peeres  of  Fraunce: 

wilbe  found  out  in  time. 
^  Text  has  a  period  here. 



10  Meanewhile  the  vlllanes  teeth, 

are  pulde  out  euery  one: 
Least  he  should  bite  cleane  out  his  tongue, 

and  so  no  trueth  be  showen. 
His  nayles  likewise  pincht  off, 

least  he  should  teare  it  out. 
And  speachles  thus  should  lose  his  life: 

and  no  wayes  cleare  this  doubt^. 
But  let  vs  speake  againe, 

of  this  the  bleeding  King, 
Who  entring  at  his  pallace  gate: 

death  broke  his  life  heart  string. 

1 1  Euen  in  a  Bushops  Armes, 

he  yeelded  vp  his  breath, 
And  said  I  die  true  Christian  King, 

sweete  lordes  reuenge  my  death. 
His  Queene,  his  sonne,  and  peeres, 

with  wringing  handes  made  mone. 
And  sayde,  if  God  be  not  our  friende, 

our  states  be  ouerthrowne. 
The  heauiest  day  in  Fraunce, 

this  is  that  euer  was  seene. 
His  death  now  makes  an  orphant  Prince, 

and  eke  a  widdowed  Oueene. 

12  Yet  wisdome  so  preuailde, 

amongst  the  lordes  of  Fraunce, 
That  by  the  gracious  helpe  of  God, 

they  salued  this  mischaunce. 
The  next  day  in  the  morne : 

fower  Cardinalls  of  estate. 
And  Princes  of  the  Kings  owne  bloud, 

this  buisines  did  debate. 
To  establish  loue  and  peace: 

within  this  mournefull  land, 
They  there  proclaym'd  the  Dolphin  King 

in  Paris  out  of  hand. 

^  No  period  in  the  text. 



I  3    A  childe  of  nine  yeeres  olde, 

being  true  and  lawfull  heyre, 
The  onely  hope  the  Kingdome  hath, 

to  rid  them  from  all  feare. 
Up  to  his  fathers  throne, 

the  Dolphin  straight  was  led. 
In  Purple  Robes  most  gorgeously; 

with  sumptuous  lewells  spread. 
Whome,  in  the  peoples  hearts, 

did  moue  such  present  ioy. 
That  euery  one  in  gladsome  sort, 

did  cry  vi,  va,  le  roy. 

14    Yea  euery  one  doth  pray, 

now  dwelling  in  the  land. 
That  like  his  father  he  may  proue, 

an  Impe  of  Mars  his  band. 
But  three  such  dayes  in  Fraunce, 

no  age  hath  euer  knowne, 
Where  present  ioy  gayn'd  sudden  woe, 

yet  woe  to  ioy  is  growne. 
One  day  a  Crowned  Queene, 

the  next  a  murdred  King, 
The  third  a  Prince  in  ioy  proclaymde, 

a  setled  peace  to  bring. 

I  5    But  God  defend  each  Land, 

from  such  a  suddaine  chaunce. 
As  lately  hath  befalne  the  King, 
of  fayre  renowned  Fraunce. 


At  London  printed  for  William  Barley,  and  are  to  be  sould 
at  his  shop  in  Gratious  Streete  1610. 


T'urner's  dish  of  L,enten  stuff 

Pepys,  I,  206,  B.L.,  one  woodcut,  five  columns. 

There  is  another  copy  of  this  ballad,  later  by  fifty  years,  in  the  collection 
of  the  Earl  of  Crawford  {Bibliotheca  Lindesiana,  Catalogue  of  English 
Ballads,  No.  841).   It  is  entitled 

The  Common  Cries  of  London  Town, 
Some  go  up  street,  some  go  down. 
With  Turners  Dish  of  Stuff,  or  a  Gallymaufery, 

is  signed  "Finis.  W.  Turner,"  and  has  the  imprint,  "London,  Printed 
for  F.  C[oles].  T.  V[ere].  and  W.  G[ilbertson].  1662."  Lord  Crawford's 
copy  was  formerly  in  the  possession  of  J.  P.  Collier,  who  commented  on 
it  in  his  Bibliographical  and  Critical  Account  of  the  Rarest  Books  in  the 
English  Language  (i,  163)  and,  later,  reprinted  it  in  his  Book  of  Roxburghe 
Ballads  (pp.  207-216).  Collations  with  this  reprint  (C.)  are  given  in  the 
notes.  It  is  curious  that  the  existence  of  the  Pepysian  ballad  has  remained 
unnoticed,  for  Collier's  reprint  has  attracted  a  considerable  amount  of 
attention  from  students  of  the  Elizabethan  drama.  One  of  them,  F.  G. 
Fleay  {Chronicle  History  of  the  London  Stage,  "New  York,  1909,  p.  375), 
correctly  argued  that  the  ballad  had  originally  appeared  in  161 2,  and  added 
the  following  important  note:  "The  "lean  fool'  is  Thomas  Greene,  the 
Queen  Anne's  player  at  the  Bull.  The  'fat  fool'  is  William  Rowley,  the 
player  in  Prince  Henry's  company  at  the  Curtain  w^ho  acted  Plum  Porridge 
in  the  Inner  Temple  Mask,  and  in  it  'moved  like  one  of  the  great  porridge 
tubs  going  to  the  Counter.'  Shank's  rhymes  were  acted  as  'Shank's 
Ordinary'  after  he  moved  to  the  King's  Company,  c.  1623."  John  Shank 
(cf.  p.  xix)  and  his  jigs  are  mentioned,  also,  in  a  poem  in  Choyce  Drollery, 
1656  (ed.  J.  W.  Ebsworth,  p.  7). 

Apart  from  its  interesting  comments  on  stage-players,  the  ballad  pre- 
serves a  curious  lot  of  old  street-cries;  among  them  the  cry  of  "Cherry 
Ripe"  so  often  used  by  Elizabethan  lyricists.  Nothing  else  of  Turner's 
seems  to  be  extant,  but  evidently  he  was  prominent  among  Jacobean 
balladists.  Three  ballads  by  him  were  licensed  to  Thomas  Pavier  on 
November  19,  161 2  (Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  503):  "Turners  disshe  of 
wagtayles,"  "Turners  Dreame  of  Sym  Subtill  and  Susan  the  brokers 
Daughter,"  and  "Turners  Pylgrymage  to  the  land  of  Iniquitye."  He  is 
again  mentioned  in  the  Stationers'  Register  when,  on  August  25,  161 3 



{ibid.  p.  532),  Charlton  and  Blackwell  secured  a  license  for  a  ballad  called 
"Wycked  Wylles  sawce  to  Turners  sawce  to  Turners  Dysshe  of  Wag- 
tayles  Sent  to  Turner  for  A  fayringe." 

The  tune  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  219. 

^urnerg  bisfj  of  Hentten  fituffe,  or  a  #alj>mauferp. 

To  the  tune  of  Wat  ton  Townes  end. 

1  A /TY  Maisters  all  attend  you, 
IV JL  if  mirth  you  loue  to  heare: 
And  I  will  tell  you  what  they  cry, 

in  London  all  the  yeare. 
He  please  you  if  I  can, 

I  will  not  be  too  long, 
I  pray  you  all  attend  a  while, 

and  lissen  to  my  song. 

2  The  fish-wife  first  begins, 

nye^  Musckles  lylly  white: 
Hearings,  Sprats,  or  Pleace, 

or  Cockles  for  delight. 
Nye^  welflet  Oysters : 

then  she  doth  change  her  note. 
She  had  need  to  hane  her  tongue  by  grease' 

for  she  rattles  in  the  throat. 

3  For  why  they  are  but  Kentish, 

to  tell  you  out  of  doubt : 
Her  measure  is  to  little, 

go  beate  the  bottom  out. 
Halfe  a  Pecke  for  two  pence, 

I  doubt  it  is  a  bodge. 
Thus  all  the  citty  ouer, 

the  people  they  do  dodge. 

1  Anye  C. 

2  She  had  need  to  have  her  tongue  be  greas'd  C. 



4  The  wench  that  cries  the  Kitchin  stuffe, 

I  maruell  what  she  ayles^ : 
She  sings  her  note  so  merry, 

but  she  has  a  dragle  taile, 
An  empty  Car  came  running, 

and  hit  her  on  the  bum, 
Downe  she  threw  her  greasie  tub, 

and  away  that^  she  did  run. 

5  But  she  did  giue  a^  blessing, 

to  some  but  not  to  all : 
To  beare  a  loade  to  Tyburne, 

and  there  to  let  it  fall. 
The  miller  with^  his  golden  thumbe, 

and  his  dusty^  necke: 
If  that  he  grind  but  two  bushels, 

he  needs  must^  steale  a  peck. 

6  The  Weauer  and  the  Tayler, 

cozens  they  be  sure : 
They  cannot  worke  but  they  must  steale, 

to  keepe  their  hands  in  vre. 
For  it  is  a  common  prouerbe, 

throughout  alP  the  towne. 
The  Taylor  he  must  cut  three  sleeues, 

for  euery  womans  gowne. 

7  Marke  but  the  Water  man, 

attending  for  his  fare: 
Of  hot  and  could,  of  wet  and  dry, 

he  alwaies  takes  a^  share. 
He  carrieth  bony  lasses, 

ouer  to  the  plaies. 
And  here  and  there  he  gets  a  bit, 

and  that  his  stomake  staies. 

1  Read  with  C.  ayle.  ^  straight  C.  ^  her  C. 

4  and  C.  ^  dirty  C.  ^  must  needs  C. 

■^  C.  omits.  ^  his  C. 



8  There  was  a  slinging^  boy, 

did  write  to^  ride  to  Rumford : 
When  I  go  to  my  close  stoole^, 

I  will  put*  him  in  a  comfort : 
But  what  I  leaue  behind, 

shall  be  no  priuate  gaine: 
But  all  is  one  when  I  am  gone, 

let  him  take  it  for  his  paine. 

9  Ould  shoes  for  new  Broomes, 

the  broome  man  he  doth  sing: 
For  hats  or  caps  or  buskins, 

or  any  ould  Pooch  rings. 
[Buy5]  a  Mat,  a  bed  Mat, 

[a  padjlock  or  a  Pas^, 
A  couer  for  a  close  stoole, 

a  bigger  or  a  lesse. 

10  Ripe  Chery  ripe, 

the  Coster-monger  cries, 
Pipins  fine,  or  Peares, 

another  after  hies. 
With  basket  on  his  head, 

his  liuing  to  aduance. 
And  in  his  purse  a  paire  of  Dice, 

for  to  play  at  Mumchance. 

1 1  Hot  Pippin  pies, 

to  sell  vnto  my  friends: 
Or  puding  pies  in  pans, 

well  stuft  with  Candles  ends. 
Will  you  buy  any  Milke, 

I  heare  a  wench  to  cry^. 
With  a  paile  of  fresh  Cheese  and  creame, 

another  after  hies. 

^  singing  C.  2  ^jj  ^pj^g  ^q.  ^Yio  did  C.  ^  own  school  C. 

4  take  C.  5  j^gxt  torn.    C.  has  Buy. 

*  a  hassock  or  a  presse  C.  '  to  cry :  that  cries  C. 




12  Oh  the  wench  went  neately, 

my  thought  it  did  me  good: 
To  see  her  cheery  cheekes, 

so  dimpled  ore  with  blood, 
Her  wastecoate  washed  white: 

as  any  lilly  flower, 
would  I  had  time  to  talke  with  her 

the  space  of  halfe  an  houre. 

13  Buy  blacke,  saith  the  blacking  man 

the  best  that  ere  was  seene: 
Tis  good  for  poore  men^  Cittizens 

to  make  their  shooes  to  shine, 
Oh  tis  a  rare  comodity, 

it  must  not  be  for-got, 
It  wil  make  them^  glister  gallantly 

and  quickly  make  them  rot. 

14  the  world  is  ful  of  thredbare  poets, 

that  Hue  vpon  their  pen : 
But  they  will  write  too  eloquent, 

they  are  such  witty  men. 
But  the  Tinker  with  his  budget, 

the  begger  with  his  wallet^, 
And  Turners  turnd  a  gallant  man, 

at  making  of  a  Ballet. 


Imprinted  at  London  for  I.W. 

^  C  omits.  2  them  to  C. 

3  Text  walled. 



^fje  itconh  part,  or  pou  are  toelcomc  mp  gueflit  to  pour 

Hentten  fare  if  pou  come  tofjen  Hent  ii  gone,  pou  sii^ali 

fjaue  better  cfjeere^  Co  tfje  game  tune. 

15  npHat  's  the  fat  foole  of  the  Curtin, 

A     and  the  leane  foole  of  the  Bull  : 
Since  Shanke  did  leaue  to  sing  his  rimes, 

he  is  counted  but  a  gull. 
The  players  of^  the  Banke  side, 

the  round  Globe  and  the  Swan, 
Will  teach  you  idle  trickes  of  loue, 

but  the  Bull  will  play  the  man. 

1 6  But  what  do  I  stand  tattling, 

of  such  Idle  toyes : 
I  had  better  go  to  Smith-field, 

to  play  among  the  Boyes, 
But  you  cheating  and  decoying^  Lads, 

with  your  base  Art-tillery: 
I  would  wish  you  shun*  Newgate, 

and  withall  the  Pillery. 

17  And  some  there  be  in  patcht  gownes, 

I  know  not  what  they  be: 
They  pinch  the  simple^  Contry  men, 

with  nimming  of  a  fee. 
For  where  they  get  a  booty, 

theyle  make  him  pay  so  deere, 
Theyle  entertaine  more  in  a  day, 

then  he  shall  in  a  yeere. 

1 8  Which  makes  them  trimme  vp  houses, 

made  of  brick,  and  stone: 
And  poore  men  goe  a  begging, 
when  house  and  land  is  gone. 

^  None  of  this  title  is  in  C    Text  has  a  comma  after  ckeere  and  tune. 
2  on  C.  ^  deceiving  C.  *  to  shun  C  ^  C.  omiti. 




Some  there  be  with  both  hands^ 

will  sweare  they  will  not  dally. 
Till  they  haue  turnd  all  vpside^  downe, 

as  many^  vse  to  salley. 

1 9  You  Pedlers  giue  good  measure, 

when  as  your  wares  you  sell : 
though  your  yard  be  short  your  thum  wil  slip, 

your  trickes  I  know  full  wel, 
And  you  that  sel  your  wares  by  waight, 

and  Hue  vpon  the  trade: 
Some  beames  be  false,  som  waits  to  light 

such  trikes  there  haue  bin  plaid. 

20  Buy  smale  Coles,  or  great  Coles, 

I  haue  them  one  my  backe : 
The  Goose  lies  in  the  bottom, 

you  may  heere  the  Ducke  cry  quacke. 
Thus  grim  the  blacke  Colyer, 

whose  liuing  is  so  loose. 
As  he  doth  walke  the  comans  ore, 

sometimes  he  steales  a  goose. 

2 1  Thou  Usurer  with  thy  money  bags, 

that  liueth  so  at  ease : 
By  gaping  after  gould  thou  doest, 

thy  mighty  God  displease. 
And  for  thy  greedy  vsur[ie]* 

and  thy  great  extortion : 
Except^  thou  doest  repent  thy  sinnes, 

hel  fire  wilbe  thy  portion. 

2  2    For  first  I  came  to  Hounds-dich, 
then  round  about  I  crept®: 
Where  cruelty  is'  crowned  chiefe, 
and  pitty  fast  a  sleepe. 

Text  handsl  ?  ^  Text  vpsie.  ^  Text  mnay. 

Text  blurred.  ^  Text  Exdept.  ^  Read  creep  with  C. 

was  C. 



Where  Usury  gets  profit, 
and  brokers  beare  the  bel, 

Oh  fie  vpon  this  deadly  sinne, 
it  sinkes  the  house^  to  hel. 

23  The  man  that  sweepes  the  chimneys, 

with  the  bunsh^  of  thornes: 
And  one  his  necke  a  trusse  of  poles, 

tipped  al  with  homes. 
With  care  he  is  not  cumbred, 

he  liueth  not  in  dread: 
For  though  he  weares  them  on  his  pole, 

some  weare  them  one  there  head. 

24  The  Landlord  with  his  racking  rents, 

turne  poore  men  out  of  doore: 
There  children  goe  a  begging, 

where  they  haue  spent  their  store, 
I  hope  none  is  affended: 

at^  that  which  is  indited, 
If  any  be,  let  him  go  home, 

and  take  a  pen  and  write  it. 

25  Buy  a  trap  a  Mouse  trap, 

a  tormentor*  for  the  fleas: 
The  hang-man  workes  but  halfe  the  day, 

he  Hues  too  much  at  ease. 
Come  let  vs  leaue  this  boyes  play, 

and  idle  prittle  prat. 
And  let  vs  goe  to  nine  holes, 

to  spurne  point  or  to  cat. 

26  Oh  you  nimble  fingured  lads, 

that  Hues  vpon  your  wits: 
Take  heed  of  Tyburne  Ague, 
for  they  be  daungerous  fits. 

1  soul  C.  2  bush  C.  3  with  C.  •*  torment  C. 



For  many  a  proper  man, 

for  to  supply  his  lacke : 
Doth  leape  a  leape  at  Tyburne, 

which  makes  his  neck  to  crack. 

27    And  to  him  that  writ  this  song, 

I  giue  this  simple  lot: 
Let  euery  one  be  ready, 

to  giue  him  halfe  a  pot. 
And  thus  I  doe  conclude, 

wishing  both  health  and  peace, 
To  those  that  are  laid  in  their  bed, 

and  cannot  sleepe  for  fleas. 


fV.  Turner. 

At  London  printed  for  I.W. 


JVhipping  cheer 

Pepys,  I,  208,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Bridewell  stood  near  Fleet  Ditch.  Originally  a  handsome  house  built 
by  Henry  VIII,  it  was  turned  over  to  the  city  of  London  in  1553,  by 
Edward  VI,  to  be  used  as  a  house  of  correction  for  rogues  and  loose  women. 
'■'■Bridewel"  says  Antony  Munday,  in  his  Br'iefe  Chronicle  of  the  Successe 
of  Times  (161 1,  p.  522),  was  "appointed  for  the  Vagabond,  ydle  strumpet, 
and  vnthrift."  It  was  formally  opened  in  1555  and  was  destroyed,  more 
than  a  century  later,  in  the  Great  Fire. 

The  author  of  the  ballad  had — what  is  so  rare  among  ballad-writers — 
a  real  sense  of  humour.  In  the  first  part  he  represents  three  files  de  joie 
— three  "fatal  sisters" — as  moaning  and  complaining  for  departed 
pleasures  while  they  are  beating  hemp  with  beetles  or  spinning  flax  at 
Bridewell  under  the  vigilant  eye  and  ever-ready  lash  of  Matron  and 
Beadle.  In  the  second  part,  the  roaring  boys, — the  gulls,  coney-catchers, 
and  panders  of  London, — are  seen  sending  a  comforting  letter  to  the  Sis- 
ters: "comfort"  is  supposed  to  come  from  the  news  that  the  roaring  boys 
themselves  are  soon  to  be  sent  to  Bridewell,  and  as  misery  loves  company, 
the  Sisters  should  cease  their  laments.  That  neither  the  roaring  boys  nor 
the  fatal  sisters  exaggerated  their  punishment  is  evident  from  the  sentence 
passed  on  one  Henry  Skyte  (July  10,  1609),  whom  the  court  ordered 
"forthwith  sent  to  Bridewell  and  there  soundlye  whipped  for  speakinge 
contemptuous  wordes  against  Sir  Robert  Leighe,  sittinge  upon  the  Benche, 
and  to  be  kepte  to  beatinge  of  hempe"  (J.  C.  Jeaffreson,  Middlesex  County 
Records,  11,  54). 

The  ballad  was  printed  about  161 2.  It  is  a  valuable  commentary  on  the 
fifth  act  of  Dekker's  Honest  Whore,  Part  II,  where  a  constable  with  "two 
Beadles,  one  with  hemp,  the  other  with  a  beetle,"  and  with  various  inmates 
of  Bridewell  play  important  roles.  The  phrase  whipping-cheer  occurs  often 
in  the  works  of  Thomas  Nashe  {Works,  ed.  R.  B.  McKerrow,  11,  291) 
and  in  Henry  IF,  Part  11,  v,  iv,  5.  The  refrain  of  the  ballad  is  very  attrac- 
tive indeed,  and  it  is  a  pity  that  the  tune  it  demands.  Hemp  and  Flax,  is 
not  known. 



^"^fjipping  Cfjeare. 
0v  tte  toofull  lamentations;  of  tfie^  tfjree  ^igters;  in 
tfje  spittle  tDfjen  tfjep  toere  in  neto  ^vihtAatlW 

To  the  tune  of  kempe  and  flax. 

I     /"^Ome  you  fatall  Sisters  three, 
v^    whose  exercise  is  spinning; 
And  helpe  vs  to  pull  out  these  thrids, 
for  heer's^  but  a  harsh  begining. 

Oh  hemp.,  and  flax.,  and  tow  to  to  to., 
Tow  to  to  to.,  tow  tero. 
Oh  hempe,  &'c. 

1    The  blinded  whipper  hee  attends  vs, 
if  the  wheele  leaue  turning, 
And  then  the  very  Matrons  lookes, 
turnes  all  our  mirth  to  mourning. 

Oh  hempe  and  flax  and  Tow  to  to  tOy 
tow  to  to  to  to  to  tero. 
Oh  hempe  ^c. 

3  Now  for  a  Cup  of  bottle  Ale, 
some  suger-plummes  and  Cakes  a. 
But  neuer  a  client  must  come  in, 
to  giu's  a  poore  pinte  of  Sacke*. 

Heers  hemp  and  flax  and  tow  to  to  to 
tow  tow  to  to  to  to  tero. 
Heer's  hempe  and  &'c. 

4  Besse  the  eldest  Sister,  shee 

is  slayned  much  with  honour^. 
And  one  cannot  endure  the  labour, 
which  is  thrust  vpon  her. 

O  hemp  and  flax  and  tow  to  to  to.. 

Tow  to  to.,  to  to  tero. 
O  hemp  i^c. 

1  Text  the  the.  ^  No  period  in  text.  ^  Text  hee'rs. 

^  Read  Sacke  a.  ^  The  n  is  upside  down  in  the  text. 



5  Garden-allies  cleare  are  swept, 
Hog-laine  laments  a  little: 

Our  tinder  boxes  ouer  our  heades, 
were  broken  at  the  Spittle: 

Heers  hemp  and  flax  and  tow  to  to  to^ 

tow  to  to  to  to  to  tero. 
Heers  hempe  ^c. 

6  If  the  London  Prentises, 

And  other  good  men  of  fashion  : 
Would  but  refraine  our  companies, 
Then  woe  to  our  occupation. 

Then  hempe  and  flaxe  and  tow  to  to  to 

Tow  to  to  to  to  tero. 
Then  hempe^  ^c. 

7  O  you  lusty  Roring  Boyes, 
Come  shew  your  brazen  faces : 
Let  your  weapons  turne  to  beetles, 
And  shoulder  out  some  of  these  lashes. 

At  hemp  and  flaxe  and  tow  to  to  to^ 
Tow  to  to  to  to  to  tero^ 
At  hemp^  ^c. 

8  Gold  and  siluer  hath  forsaken, 
Our  acquaintance  cleerely: 
Twined  whipcord  takes  the  place, 
And  strikes  t'our  shoulders  neerely. 

Heers  hempe  and  flax  and  tow  to  to  to^ 
Tow  to  to  to  to  tero^ . 
Heere's  hemp^  &c. 

9  You  Punkes  and  Panders  euery  one, 
Come  follow  your  louing  sisters: 

In  new  Bridewell  there  is  a  mill, 
Fills  all  our  hands  with  blisters. 

And  hempe  and  flax  and^  tow  to  to  to  to  tero? 

lo    If  the  Millers  art  you  like  not, 
to  the  hempe  blocke  packe  yee: 

^  Text  telo  ?  2  Text  has  a  comma. 



Thumpe,  and  thumpe,  and  thump  apace, 
for  feare  the  whipper  take  yee. 

Ther's  hemp^  ^  flax  and  tow  to  to  to^ 

Tow  to  to  to  to  tero. 

®!je  ^cconb  ^art  of  tfje  OTlfjippins  Cfjeere.  Wi\\^  ttje 
3Ri)rms1l[abJi']^comfortable  ansitoere  to  tfjree  fatall^igteri. 

(!Co  tfje  game  tune. 

1 1  O  Isters  wee  haue  receiu'd  your  letters, 
O  And  lament  your 2  cases: 

Worke  but  apace  a  little  while, 
Wee  will  possesse  your  places. 

At  hempe  and  flaxe  and  tow,  to,  to,  to. 

At  hempe  and  flaxe^  &'c. 

12  You  haue  plaid  your  parts  wee  see, 
And  well  maintaind  the  battle: 
Now  to  giue  the  Counterblow, 
Weele  make  the  beetles  rattle. 

At  hempe  and  flaxe  and  tow,  to  to  to. 
At  hempe  i^c. 

13  Dice  and  cards  and  mony  store. 
Which  euerv  foole  disburses: 
Commands  vs  all  to  sing  and  roare. 
With  full  impleated  purses. 

Now  to  the  hempe  and  Tow  to  to  to. 
Now  to  the,  ^c. 

14  Clownes  shall  not  escape  our  hands. 
But  still  we  will  be  nipping; 

Weele  ventures  gentry  state  and  lands. 
Because  weele  haue  some  whipping. 

At  hempe  and  flaxe  and  Tow  to  to  to. 

At  hempe,  ^c, 

1 5  Sommons  shall  be  sent  abroad, 
To  call  home  country  brothers: 

^  Torn.  ^  Text  yours. 



Panders,  Foysters,  and  roring  boyes, 
The  Pimps  and  all  such  others. 

To  the  hemp  and flaxe  ^  Tow  to  to  to. 

To  the  hempe,  ^c. 

1 6  Cutpurse  boyes  shall  grow  to  strength. 
For  labours  best  befitting : 

Play  the  beetles  out  at  length, 
Unlesse  youle  goe  to  whipping. 

To  the  hemp  and  flax  and  Tow  to  to  to, 

To  the  hempe,  i^c. 

17  Pads  and  Prancers  run  and  ride, 
Decoyes  come  shew  your  cunning: 
Make  hast  to  bring  the  cards  and  dice, 
Your  labours  worth  the  running. 

Heers  hemp  and  flaxe  and  tow  to  to  to, 
Heer's  hemp,  ^c. 

1 8  Worke  apace  for  Wine  and  Capon, 
And  good  cheere  growes  scanty: 
Now  the  beetles  grow  the  weapon, 
Our  fares  not  halfe  so  dainty. 

Heers  hemp  and  flaxe  and  tow  to  to  to, 
Heere's  hemp. 

19  Sisters  what  thinke  you  that  we. 
Do  second  out  your  labours. 
When  we  meet  abroad  againe, 

I  display  the  double  coulours. 

O  hempe  and  flaxe  and  tow  to  to  to, 
O  hempe,  &'c. 

20  Lastly  to  amend  the  matter. 
Shew  your  shoulders  printed: 
Weele  shew  as  faire  and  if  not  better, 
For  so  it  is  appointed. 

y^t  hempe  and  flaxe  and  to  to  to  to. 

At  hemp  and  flaxe  and  tow  to  to  to,  ^c. 

Printed  at  London  for  H.G. 



T' he  peace  between  Denmark 
and  Sweden 

Pepys,  I,  loo,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Charles  IX  of  Sweden  imprudently  assumed  the  title  of  "King  of  the 
Lapps  of  Nordland,"  which  belonged  to  the  Danish  Crown,  and  the  so- 
called  War  of  Kalmar  between  him  and  Christian  IV  of  Norway  and 
Denmark  (James  I's  brother-in-law)  followed.  Most  of  the  fighting  cen- 
tered around  Kalmar  ("Caiman"),  the  eastern  fortress  of  Sweden,  which 
the  Danes  finally  captured.  Charles  IX's  son,  Gustavus  Adolphus,  con- 
cluded with  Christian  IV  the  disastrous  peace  of  Knared,  celebrated  in 
the  ballad,  on  January  20,  161 3.  So  onerous  were  the  terms,  however, 
that  instead  of  the  brotherly  love  mentioned  by  the  balladist,  for  many 
decades  hatred  existed  between  the  two  countries.  The  peace  terms — 
summarized  from  a  pamphlet  "  translated  out  of  the  Dutche  copy  printed 
at  Hamburgh"  that  Gosson  registered  on  April  8,  1613  (Arber's  Tran- 
script, III,  518) — are  accurately  enough  enumerated  in  the  ballad. 

The  tune  will  be  found  in  ChappeU's  Popular  Music,  i,  144. 



Cijf  SopfuU  ^eace,   conclulicb  bettoeene  rije  lling  of 

Denmarke  anb  tfje  ^ing  of  Sweden^  bp  ttje  meaneg 

of  our  mojSt  toortfjp  ^oueraigne,  lames^  bp  tfje 

grace  of  (gob,  i^ing  of  great  Prittaine 

France  anb  Ireland^  Z2c. 

To  the  tune  of  who  list  to  lead  a  Soldiers  life. 


'He  Lord  of  Hosts  hath  blest  no  Land 

As  he  hath  blessed  ours: 
Whom  neither  famine,  sword  nor  fire 
Nor  myserie  deuoures. 
But  in  his  mercy  alwayes  still 
He  giues  vs  blessings  store: 
And  doth  the  hungry  euer  fill, 
And  feeds  both  rich  and  poore. 



2  For  wee  that  know  not  woes  of  war 
Forget  the  loyes  of  peace : 

But  if  we  once  should  feele  wars  stroak 
Then  would  our  loyes  decreace, 
Let  men  of  ludgement,  ponder  well 
The  dangerous  State  of  Armes 
And  they  will  iudge  a  happy  peace 
More  good  then  feirce  allarmes. 

3  How  many  kingdomes  hath  bin  spoyld? 
How  many  Cittyes  sackt? 

How  many  valliant  men  byn  foyld 
How  many  ships  byn  wrackt? 
What  bloody  massakers  and  Rapes 
What  dismall  horride  deeds? 
The  wars  hath  both  vndon  and  don 
Whilst  thousand  thousands  bleeds. 

4  And  true  report  to  Britaines  brings 
What  warlike  cruell  strife 

'Twixt  Denmarke  &  the  Sweauian  kings 

Where  thousands  lost  their  life 

Till  mighty  lames  our  Royall  Leidge 

Did  cause  the  wars  to  end, 

And  both  these  foes  gaue  or'e  their  seidge 

And  each  is  others  freind. 

5  For  what  the  one  demanded  still 
The  other  still  denyed: 

And  Kings  contention  was  the  cause 

That  many  subiects  dyed. 

What  Princes  speake  in  heate  of  blood 

Is  feirce  consuming  wrath 

And  seldome  can  it  be  withstood 

Without  their  subiects  scath. 

6  The  Royall  King  of  Denmarke  layd 
lust  clayme  to  certaine  Land 

The  which  the  Sweauian  King  denay'd 
And  did  his  force  withstand 



But  after  many  myseries 

And  deadly  dints  of  wars 

Our  gracious  Soueraigne  Lord  King  lames 

Did  end  these  bloody  lars. 

W^t  geconb  part  of  tfje  SopfuU  ^eace,  conclulieti  bettoeene 

rtje  ^ing  of  Denmar\e  anb  tfje  Eing  of  Sweden^  bp 

tfje  rneaneg  of  our  mosit  toortfjp  Soueraigne, 

lames^  bj>  tfje  grace  of  (^ob,  ^ing  of  great 

Britaine  France   anb   Ireland^   &c. 

To  the  tune  of  zvAo  list  to  lead  a  Soldiers  life. 

7  OIxe  Articles  of  consequence, 
O   betweene  them  is  agreed: 

W' ith  oathes  confirm'd  betweene  each  Prince, 

to  be  performed  indeed. 
The  which  conditions  of  the  peace, 

in  order  follow  heere: 
Whereby  the  cause  of  all  those  broyles, 

to  all  men  may  appeare. 

8  First  that  the  King  of  Sweden  should, 

The  City  Caiman  yeald: 
Into  the  King  of  Denmarkes  hands, 

(e're  further  blood  be  spil'd.) 
With  all  the  profits  of  the  same : 

If  he  the  same  would  hold 
Or  else  to  his  commodity, 

The  Citty  must  be  sold. 

9  That  Elsbach^  Otland^  two  great  townes, 

and  Mensborch^  with  the  land: 
And  Forces  must  be  all  deliuer'd, 

to  mighty  Denmarks  hand. 
For  twelue  yeares  space  he  must  inioy, 

Those  Castles  Townes  and  Forts, 
And  now  in  rest  these  Princes  great, 

do  florish  in  their  Courts. 



10  Besides  the  King  of  Sweden  must, 

to  end  the  mighty  quarrels: 
Unto  the  King  of  Denmarke  pay, 

of  gold  full  fifteene  barrells. 
For  charges  of  the  foresaid  warres, 

and  that  their  shippes  at  seas, 
May  passe  through  one  anothers  bounds, 

and  no  man  them  displease. 

1 1  That  Layland  euer  shall  be  free, 

without  all  contribution : 
That  Greeneland  is  the  Danish  Kings, 

and  giue  no  restitution. 
That  Denmarks  King  without  all  let, 

foure  golden  Crownes  may  beare. 
Which  was  the  great  and  greatest  cause, 

he  first  these  warres  did  reare. 

1 2  Besides  some  things  of  smaller  note, 

betwixt  them  is  decreed: 
And  so  those  mighty  Christian  Kings, 

like  brothers  are  agreed. 
Thus  after  many  bloody  fights, 

and  many  people  slaine: 
The  deadly  stroake  of  dangerous  amies, 

brings  blessed  peace  againe. 


Those  which  are  desirous  to  see  this  matter  more  at  large: 
I  rejerre  to  the  booke  newly  come  forth  according  to  the  Dutch 

Printed  for  Henry  Gosson,  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop 
on  London  Bridge.   1613. 



Leander^s  love  to  loyal  Hero 

Pepys,  I,  344,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

William  Meash^  is  another  writer  quite  forgotten  by  balladry  and 
literature,  though  he  professes  an  intention  of  immortalizing  the  names  of 
Hero  and  Leander  by  this  ballad.  His  choice  of  a  tune  seems  inadvertently 
to  add  a  touch  of  burlesque  to  the  story  of  Hero  and  Leander.  Burlesque, 
indeed,  was  not  unusual:  the  story  had  long  been  a  favourite  for  puppet- 
shows,  as  the  parody  in  Jonson's  Bartholomew  Fair  forcibly  reminds  us. 
There  is  a  copy  of  this  ballad — minus  title,  tune,  and  signature — in  the 
Percy  Folio  MS.  (ed.  Hales  and  Furnivall,  iii,  295).  Except  for  some  un- 
important variations  in  spelling,  the  scribe  followed  the  printed  broadside 
carefully:  most  of  the  other  variants  in  his  work  (P.)  are  indicated  in  the 
foot-notes.  Later  ballads  on  "The  Tragedy  of  Hero  and  Leander;  Or, 
The  Two  Unfortunate  Lovers"  and  "An  Excellent  Sonnet  of  the  Un- 
fortunate Loves  of  Hero  and  Leander,"  both  dating  about  1650,  are  pre- 
served in  the  Roxburgh  Ballads  (vi,  558,  560). 

The  tune  oi  Shackley  Hay  dates  from  March  16,  161 3,  but  is  given  in 
Chappell's  Popular  Music  (i,  367)  only  from  a  MS.  of  Charles  I's  reign. 
There  is,  however,  a  copy  of  the  first  stanza  and  the  music  in  Additional 
MS.  38,599,  fol.  140,  that  was  made  from  the  161 3  issue  of  the  ballad  of 
"Shackley  Hay." 

John  White  registered  "Hero  and  Leander"  for  publication  on  July  2, 
1 61 4  (Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  549). 

Heanberg  louc  to  lopall  ||ero. 

To  the  tune  of  Shackley  hay. 

I    '  I  "Wo  famous  Louers  once  there  was, 
-L     whom  Fame  hath  quite  forgott. 
Who  loued  long  most  constantly, 
without  all  enuious  blott; 

^  Possibly  he  was  the  "William"  whose  last  name  is  torn  off  the 
Pepysian  ballad  (i,  306)  of  "Loves  up  to  the  Elbowes.  To  the  tune  of 
Codlings,''''  or  the  "W.M."  who  wrote  "The  Lamentation  of  Englande," 
I  584  (J.  P.  Collier's  Book  of  Roxburghe  Ballads,  p.  127;  Lord  Crawford's 
Catalogue  of  English  Ballads,  No.  1361). 

R.P.G.  49  D 


Shee  was  most  faire,  and  hee  as^  true: 

which  caused  that  which'-^  did  ensue;  fa  la,^ 

Whose  storie  I  doe  meane  to  write, 
and  tytle  it,  True  Loues  delight,  fa  la. 

L    Leander  was  this  young-mans  name, 

right  Noble  by  dessent: 
And  Hero^  she  whose  beautie  rare, 

might  giue  great  loue'^  content. 
He  at  Abidos  kept  his  Court, 

and  she  at  Sestos  liued  in  sport,  fa  la, 
A  Riuer  great  did  part  these  twaine, 

which  caus'd  them  oft  poore  soules  complaine,  fa  la. 

;    Euen  Hellespont^  whose  Current  streames, 

like  lightninges  swift  did  glide, 
Accursed  Riuer  that  two  hearts, 

so  faythfull  must  deuide. 
And  more,  which  did  augment  their  woe, 

their^  parents  weare  each  others  foe,  fa  la. 
So  that  no  Ship  durst  him  conuey, 

unto  the  place  whereas^  his  Hero  lay,  fa  la. 

L    Long  time  these  Louers  did  complaine, 

the  misse  of  their  desire. 
Not  knowing  how  they  might  obtaine, 

the  thing  they  did  require. 
Though  they'  were  parted  with  rough  seas, 

no  waters  could  Loues  flames  appease,  fa  la, 
Leander  ventured  to^  Swim 

to  Hero^  who  well  welcomed  him,  fa  la. 

]    Euen  in  the  midst  of  darkesome  night, 
when  all  thinges  silent  were. 
Would  young  Leander  take  his  flight, 

through  Hello spont  so  cleare;  I 

1  most  P.             2  that  P. 

^  P.  throughout  usually  has  fa  la  la. 

^  Loue  great  P.             ^  the  P. 

«  where  P.             '  hee  P. 

8  for  to  P. 



Where  at  the  shore,  Hero  would  bee, 
to  welcome  him  most  louingly,  fa  la. 

And  so  Leander  would  conuey, 

vnto  the  chamber  where  she  lay,  fa  la. 

6  Thus  many  dayes  they  did  enioy, 

the  fruits  of  their  delight. 
For  he  oft  to  his  Hero  came, 

and  backe  againe^  same  night. 
And  she  for  to  encourage  him, 

through  Hellospont  more  bold  to^  swim,  fa  la. 
In  her  Tower  top^  a  Lampe  did  place, 

whereby  he  might  behold  her  face,  fa  la. 

7  And  by  this  Lampe  would  Hero  sit, 

still  praying  for  her  loue. 
That  the  rough  waters  to  Leander\ 

would^  not  offensiue  proue. 
Be  mild  quoth  she,  till^  he  doth  swim, 

and  that  I  haue  well  welcomed  him,  fa  la; 
And  then  euer  rage  and  rore  amaine, 

that  he  may  neuer  goe  hence  againe,  fa  la. 

8  Now  Boistrous  Winter  hasted  on, 

when  windes  and  Waters  rage: 
Yet  could  it  not  the  lustfull  heate, 

of  this  young  Youth  asswage: 
Though  windes  and  waters  raged  so, 

no  Ship  durst  venture  for  to  goe,  fa  la; 
Leander  would  goe  see  his  Loue, 

his  manly  Armes  in  Floodes  to  proue,  fa  la. 

^  Text  aganie.  ^  boldlye  P.  ^  tap  tower  P. 

*  vnto  him  P.  ^  might  P.  «  while  P. 

$1  D2 


Wt^t  sieconb  part  ot  Heantiersi  loue  to  Hopall  ^ero : 
Co  tije  game  tune^ 

9    "  I  "Hen  lept  he  into  Hellospont 
A     desirous  for  to  goe, 
Unto  the  place  of  his  delight, 

which  he  affected  so. 
But  windes  and  waues  did  him  withstand, 

so  that  he  could  attaine  no  land,  fa  la; 
For  his  loues  Lampe  looking  about, 
faire  Hero  slept,  and  it  gone  out,  fa  la. 

10  Then  all  in  vaine  Leander  stroue; 

till  Armes  could  doe  no  more. 
For  naked  he  depriu'd  of  life, 

was  cast  vpon  the  shore: 
Oh  had  the  Lampe  still  stayed  in, 

Leander  liuelesse  had  not  been,  fa  la. 
Which  being  gone,  he  knew  no  ground, 

because  thicke  darknesse  did  abound,  fa  la; 

1 1  When  Hero  faire  awakt  from  sleepe, 

and  saw  her  Lampe  was  gone. 
Her  senses  all  be  nummed  weare 

and  she  like  to  a  stone. 
Oh  from  her  Eyes  then  Pearles  more  cleare, 

proceeded  many  a  dolefull  teare,  fa  la, 
Presaging^  that  the  angry  Flood, 

had  drunke  Leanders  Louely^  blood,  fa  la. 

1 2  Then  to  the  top  of  highest  Tower,^ 

faire  Hero^  did  ascend: 
To  see  how  windes  did  with  the  waues, 
for  maistership  contend: 

^  Not  in  P.  2  perswading  P. 

^  guiltlesse  P.  ^  Text  has  a  period. 



And  on  the  Sandes  she  did  espie 
a  naked  body  Liuelesse  lye,  fa  la; 

And  looking  more  vpont,  she  knew, 
it  was  Leanders  bloodlesse^  hue,  fa  la. 

13  Then  did  she  teare  her  golden  haire, 

and  in  her  griefe  thus  sayd. 
Accursed  Riuer  that  art  still 

a  foe  to  euery  Mayde, 
Since  Hellen  faire,  in  thee  was  dround, 

nam'd  Hellospont  tha'rt^  euer  found,  fa  la; 
And  now  to  see  what  thou  canst  doe, 

thou  hast  made  me  a  mourner  too,  fa  la.^ 

14  But  though  thou  didst  attach  my  Loue, 

and  tooke  him  for  thine  owne: 
That  he  was  only  Heroes  deare, 

hencefoorth  it  shalbe  knowne. 
Then  from  the  Tower  faire  Hero  fell, 

whose  woefull  death  I  sigh  to  tell,  fa  la : 
And  on  his  body  there  did  die, 

that  loued  her  most  tenderly  fa  la; 

1 5  Thus  ended  they  both*  life  and  loue, 

in  prime  of  their  young  yeares: 
Since  whose  vntimelie  funeralls 

no  such  true  loue  appeares: 
Untill  more  Constant  loue  arise, 

their  names  I  will  immortalize^,  fa  la. 
And  heauens  send^  such  as  haue  true  friends, 

as  faithful  hearts,  but  better  ends,  fa  la. 

JfintS!.  quoth  William  Meash. 

Imprinted  at  London  for  /.  fV. 

^  bloudlye  P.  2  j  g  th'art  =  thou  art.         ^  'j;'gxt  omits  fa  la. 

*  both  they  P.  ^  imupetelasze  P!  ^  P.  omits. 


T'he  arraignment  ofjohn  Plodder 

Pepys,  I,  130,  B.L.,  five  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

"The  arraignement  ofjohn  Ffloder  for  burneing  the  towne  of  Windham 
in  Norfolke"  was  registered  at  Stationers'  Hall  by  John  Trundle  on 
September  26,  161  5  (Arber's  Transcript,  iii,  573). 

The  following  passage,  dealing  with  Plodder's  crime,  occurs  in  Francis 
Blomefield's  History  of  Norfolk,  1805,  11,  533: 

On  June  nth,  1615,  this  town  [of  Wymondham]  was  damaged  by  fire  to 
above  40,000/.  value,  there  being  above  300  dwelling-houses  consumed. .  .it 
appears  it  was  fired  on  purpose;  I  have  the  original  confession  of  one  Margaret 
Bix,  alias  El<vyn,  then  under  sentence  of  death,  made  before  the  under-sheriff, 
&c.  in  which  she  acknowledges  that  she  was  privy  to  the  fact,  and  that  it  was 
committed  by  Ellen  Pendleton,  who  was  also  under  condemnation  for  it,  and 
that  the  said  Ellen  lighted  a  match,  and  she  placed  it  in  the  stable  where  the  fire 
first  began;  Will.  Plodder  -was  not  condemned,  but  his  brother  John,  and  others, 
were  condemned  also:  it  appears  that  they  were  Scots,  but  went  under  the  name 
of  Egyptians,  all  but  this  Bix,  whom  they  promised  to  carry  with  them  into 
their  own  country,  and  maintain  well,  and  procure  a  pardon  from  the  Pope, 
for  committing  the  fact. 

Ellen  Pendleton  (or  "Helen  Pendleton  alias  Floder,"  as  she  is  called  in  the 
Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  1611-18,  p.  304)  was  the  wife  of 
John  Flodder,  and  her  examination  is  preserved  in  the  Public  Record 
Office.  From  the  summary  given  in  the  Calendar  it  appears  that  she  at- 
tempted to  place  the  blame  on  "certain  maimed  soldiers,  sailors,  &c.  whom 
she  found  on  the  road  near  Howlbruck,  Derbyshire,  who  said  they  were 
employed  by  Lord  Stanley  beyond  the  seas  in  plots,"  and  that  her  attempt 
was  not  successful  because  these  men  carried  no  "powder  or  match  whereby 
they  could  be  suspected  of  such  a  crime,"  On  August  9,  161 5,  one 
Humphrey  Clesby,  talking  with  an  acquaintance  (who  promptly  reported 
his  words  to  the  Government)  about  a  sermon  against  Popery  at  Paul's 
Cross,  remarked  that  the  burning  of  Wymondham,  though  falsely  imputed 
to  Roman  Catholic  fanatics,  "was  done  by  two  sailors"  {Calendar  of  State 
Papers,  Domestic,  1611-18,  p.  301). 

The  tune  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  162. 





Cfje  ^ratgnement  of  Sofjn  Jf lobber  anb  W  fcoife,  at 
i^ortDibge,  toiti)  tlje  toife  of  one  Picfes,  for  burnins 
tfje  Wo\smt  of  IMinbfjam  in  i^orfolfee,  bpon  tfje  xi.  bap 
of  3une  la£(t  1615.  OTfjere  ttoo  of  tfjem  are  noto  exe= 
cuteb,  anb  tfje  tijirb  repriucb  bpon  furtfjer  confesljfion. 

To  the  tune  of  Fortune  my  foe. 


BRaue  Windham  late,  whom  Fortune  did  adorne, 
With  Buildings  fayre,  &  fresh  as  Sommersmorne: 
To  coale-blacke  Ashes  now,  quite  burned  downe, 
May  sorrowing  say,  I  was  a  gallant  Towne. 

2  Yea  all  my  state  and  glory  is  put  by. 

For  mourning  on  the  ground  my  Buildings  lye : 
My  Goods  consum'd,  my  Dwellers  brought  full  low, 
Which  now  goe  wandring  vp  and  downe  in  woe. 

3  Three  hundred  dwelling  Houses  of  account, 
Which  did  to  fourtie  thousand  pounds  amount. 
Are  all  consumd  and  wasted  quite  away. 

And  nothing  left,  but  ruine  and  decay. 

4  Woe  worth  the  causers  of  this  blacke  misdeed. 
That  makes  a  thousand  hearts  with  sorrow  bleed  : 
A  thousand  hearts  with  wringing  hands  may  say, 
In  Windham  towne  this  was  a  wofull  day. 

5  The  deed  was  done  by  such  vnhallowed  hands. 
Whose  rigour  card  not  for  a  thousand  Lands, 
The  Earth  it  selfe,  if  that  it  flam'd  with  fier, 
Were  as  these  damned  varlets  did  desier. 

6  One  Plodder  and  his  cursed  wife,  were  those, 
Which  wrought  this  famous  towne  these  sodaine  woes : 
Confederate  with  one  Bickes  wife;  which  three. 
Unto  this  cursed  action  did  agree. 



7  As  Rogues  and  Beggars  wandring  vp  and  downe, 
They  went  to  seeke  reliefe  from  towne  to  towne : 
And  liued  by  the  vsage  of  bace  sinne, 

As  custome  trayneth  all  such  liuers  in. 

8  [But]  sure  the  Diuell,  or  else  some  Feend  of  his, 
[Persujaded^  them  vnto  this  foule  amisse, 
With  Fire  to  wast  so  braue  a  Market  towne, 
That  florisht  faire,  with  Riches  and  Renowne. 

9  A  Fier  that  was  deuised  of  the  Diuell, 

A  Fier  of  all  the  worst,  and  worse  then  euill : 
Wilde  fier  it  was,  that  could  not  quenched  bee, 
A  Ball  thereof  lay  kindling  secretly, 

10  Within  an  Eaues,  not  seene  of  any  man, 
A  Match  gaue  fier,  and  so  it  first  began : 

In  Seruice  time,  when  people  were  at  Prayers, 
As  God  required,  and  not  on  worldly  cares. 

11  A  time  that  such  a  chaunce  could  hardly  bee 
Preuented  by  mans  helpe,  as  man  might  see: 
For  on  a  sodaine  kindled  so  the  flame. 

That  mazed  people  could  not  quench  the  same. 

12  Within  two  howers  the  towne  was  burned  quite, 
And  much  good  Wealth  therin  consumd  outright: 
The  Free-schoole  house,  with  many  a  gallant  Hall 
With  Aged  people,  and  poore  Children  small. 

1 3  Such  woes  were  neuer  seene  in  any  place. 
Nor  neuer  men  remaind  in  heauier  case: 
Strange  doubts  were  made  how  first  the  fire  begun 
That  hath  so  many  good  mens  states  vndone. 

14  At  last  this  Plodder^  with  his  wandring  Mates, 
Which  daily  beg'd  for  food  at  rich  mens  Gates, 
Examined  were,  where  soone  their  guiltie  tongues 
Confest  the  chiefe  occasions  of  these  wronges. 

1  Margin  torn. 



1 5    And  so  with  hearts  bespotted  with  blacke  shame, 
They  were  araigned,  and  iudged  for  the  same, 
To  suffer  death,  a  recompence  to  make. 
For  this  offence,  they  thus  did  vndertake. 

Wf)t  ^econb  part  of  tfje  ^raignement  of  Jf lobber  anb 
ijisf  tDife  Set.  ^0  tfje  siame  tune. 

1 6  A  Nd  when  their  day  of  death  drew  neere  at  hand, 
l\~   According  to  the  Judges  iust  commaund, 
Before  ten  thousand  peoples  wondring  eyes. 
This  Plodder  like  a  damned  monster  dyes, 

17  A  selfe-wild  Papist,  of  a  stubborne  heart, 

That  would  but  small  submission  from  him  part: 
But  boldly  died  as  though  he  had  done  well. 
And  not  been  guiltie  of  the  fact  of  Hell. 

1 8  His  hated  body  still  on  Earth  remaines, 

■  (A  shame  vnto  his  kin)  hangd  vp  in  Chaines: 
And  must  at  all  no  other  Buriall  haue. 
But  Crowes  &  Rauens  mawes  to  make  his  graue.^ 

19  But  Picks  his  wife  in  signe  of  penitence. 
With  weeping  teares  bewayled  her  offence:    , 
And  at  her  death,  confest  with  grieued  minde, 
This  deed  beyond  the  reach  of  Woman-kind. 

20  And  how  most  leawdly  she  had  liued  long, 
A  shamefull  life,  in  doing  deeds  of  wrong: 
And  trode  the  steps  of  Whoredome  day  by  day. 
Accounting  sinne  and  shame,  the  better  way. 

2 1  And  how  that  shee,  was  will'd  to  put  her  hope 
At  last,  to  haue  a  Pardone  from  the  Pope 

For  all  her  sinnes:  for  which,  she  did  repent, 
And  sayd,  no  Pope,  but  Christ  was  her  content. 

^  No  period  in  the  text. 



22  And  as  for  Plodders  wife,  the  chiefe  herein, 
And  damded  leader  to  this  wilfull  sinne, 
Being  bigg  with  child,  repriued  was  therefore, 
To  giue  that  life,  which  in  her  Wombe  she  bore. 

23  But  hauing  now  deliuerance  of  her  Child, 
All  further  hopes  of  life  are  quite  exild. 

Yet  hope  of  life,  hath  made  her  now  confesse. 
The  Townes  proceeding  dangers  and  distresse. 

24    And  how  the  rest  should  all  haue  burned  beene, 
So  with  a  second  Fire  to  waste  it  cleane: 
And  how  the  Husband  of  the  woman  dead. 
Had  giuen  consent  to  haue  this  mischiefe  spread. 

2  5    Likewise  one  Hicks,  a  fellow  of  good  age. 
She  sayd,  his  credite  and  his  word  did  gage, 
To  be  a  furtherer  to  this  damned  deed, 
That  now  hath  made  a  thousand  hearts  to  bleed. 

26  But  let  no  such  accursed  wretch  as  this. 

The  course  of  Law  and  Justice  looke  to  misse: 
But  with  repentance  true  prepare  for  death, 
As  most  vnworthy  of  a  minuts  breath. 

27  And  now  let  Englands  Townes  both  farre  &  neere 
With  wisedome  still  preuent  like  chance,  &  feare, 
And  weed  away  from  euery  place  and  Cittie, 
Such  idle  Drones,  you  cherish  with  your  pittie. 

28  Yet  in  your  hearts  let  Charitie  remaine. 
And  freely  giue,  to  buyld  this  Towne  againe. 
And  in  your  Prayers  desire  the  Lord  of  heauen, 
That  bountious  guiftes  may  thereunto  be  giuen. 



29    Our  royall  King,  with  good  and  gracious  hand, 
Haue  graunted  them,  the  bounties  of  our  Land: 
In  euery  Church  that  gathering  there  may  bee, 
As  by  his  Letterpatents  we  may  see. 


Imprinted  at  London  for  lohn  Trundle,  dwelling 
in  Barbican  at  the  signe  of  the  No  body. 

The  names  in  the  Kings  Letters  Pattents,  to 
gather  vp  the  mony,  are  these  following. 

lohn  Moore.      \       i  William  Horsnell. 
Steuen  Agas.     I      J  Esa  Freeman. 

Robert  Carre 
lohn  Doffeelde. 

j  Robert  Agas. 
\  William  Rowse. 

The  Countries  and  Cities,  graunted  for  these 
men  to  gather  in,  are  these  following. 

London  and  Westminster:  Middlesex,  Essex,  Kent, 

Hartford,  Surry,  and  Sussex:  with  the  Cities  of 

Canterburie,  Rochester,  and  the  Cinque  Ports, 

with  the  Citie  of  Chester. 



'The  famous  rat-catcher 

Pepys,  I,  458,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

The  date  of  this  ballad  is  about  161  5.  Part  I  is  preserved  also  in  a  MS. 
at  Shirburn  Castle,  Oxfordshire,  from  which  it  is  printed  in  Clark's 
Skirburn  Ballads,  pp.  94-95.  The  copyist  {S>j  followed  the  printed  copy 
carefully,  but  the  second  part  has  been  torn  out  of  the  MS. 

The  ballad  is  a  highly  interesting,  if  coarse,  song.  The  rat-catcher 
specialized  in  the  treatment  of  the  so-called  social  diseases  no  less  than  in 
exterminating  rats  and  mice  by  means  of  his  "painful  bag"  of  poisons. 
The  ensign  of  his  trade,  a  flag  of  several  colours,  is  shown  in  the  fine  wood- 
cut here  reproduced  from  the  ballad  (cf.  also  Ebsworth's  comment  in  the 
Roxburghe  Ballads,  viii,  xxxvii***,  and  see  a  ballad  dating  about  1855, 
"The  Ratcatcher's  Daughter,"  in  John  Ashton's  Modern  Street  Ballads, 
1888,  p.  142).  King  James  I  himself,  by  the  way,  had  an  official  rat- 
catcher, to  whom  in  1623  he  was  paying  %d.  a  day  {Calendar  of  State 
Papers,  Domestic,  1623-25,  p.  135). 

The  tune  of  The  Jovial  Tinker,  or  Joans  Ale  is  new,  given  in  Chappell's 
Popular  Music,  i,  187,  does  not  apply  here.  The  correct  tune  is,  instead, 
derived  from  "A  pleasant  new  Songe  of  a  jovial  Tinker.  To  a  pleasant 
new  tune  called  Fly  Brasse'""  (Pepys,  i,  460),  printed  by  John  Trundle^. 
Fl-j  Brass,  identical  with  Tom  of  Bedlam,  is  in  Popular  Music,  i,  333,  11, 


1  Later  versions  of  this  ballad,  beginning  "Here  sits  [or  There  was]  a 
jovial  tinker,  dwelt  in  the  town  of  Turvey,"  are  printed  in  the  pamphlet 
of  The  Tinker  of  Turvey  (1630,  pp.  2-3)  and  in  Merry  Drollery,  1661, 
I,  17-18.  There  are  many  imitations  of  it:  e.g.  "Encomium  of  Tobacco" 
in  Sportive  Wit,  1656,  sigs.  F.  d^-Y.  7,  and  "The  Vagabond"  in  Merry 
Drollery,  11,  16-18. 



Cfje  famous!  ^Ratfeetcfjer,  toiti)  W  trauels!  into  Jfrance, 
anti  of  W  returne  to  Hontron. 

To  the  tune  of  t/ie  iouiail  Tinker. 

THere  was  a  rare  Rat-catcher, 
Did  about  the  Country  wander, 
The  soundest  blade  of  all  his  trade, 
Or  I  should  him  deepely  slaunder: 
For  still  would  he  cry^  a  Ratt  tat  tai^^ 

tar  a  rat^  euer: 
To  catch  a  Mouse^  or  to  carouse^ 
such  a  Ratter  I  saw  neuer. 

1  tat  tat :  rat  rat  throughout  in  S, 



2  Upon  a  Poale  he  carryed 

Full  fourty  fulsome  Vermine: 
Whose  cursed  Hues  without  any  Kniues, 
To  take  he  did  determine. 

And  still  would  he  cry,  a  Rat  tat  tat, 
tara  Rat,  euer,  is'c, 

3  His  talke  was  all  of  India, 

The  Voyage  and  the  Nauie : 
What  Mise  or  Rattes,  or  wild  Polcats: 
What  Stoates  or  Weesels  haue  yee : 
And  still  would  he  cry,  a  Rat,  &c. 

4  He  knew  the  Nut  of  India, 

That  makes  the  Magpie  stagger :  ^ 

The  Mercuries,  and  Cantharies, 

With  Arsnicke,  and  Roseaker.  | 

And  still  would  he  cry,  a  Rat,  &c. 

5  Full  often  with  a  Negro, 

The  luice  of  Poppies  drunke  hee: 
Eate  Poyson  franke^  with  a  Mountebanke, 
And  Spiders  with  a  Monkie. 

And  still  would  he  cry,  a  Rat,  &c. 

6  In  London  he  was  well  knowne: 

In  many  a  stately  House 
He  layd  a  Bayte;  whose  deadly  fate, 
Did  kill  both  Ratte  and  Mouse. 
And  still  would  he  cry,  a  Rat,  &c. 

7  But  on  a  time,  a  Damosell, 

did  him  so  farre  intice, 
That  for  her,  a  Baite  he  layd  straight, 
would  kill  no  Rats  nor  Mice. 
And  still  would  he  cry,  a  Rat,  &c. 

1  ranke  S. 


8  And  on  the  Baite  she  nibled, 

so  pleasing  in  her  taste, 
She  lickt  so^  ^ong,  that  the  Poyson  strong, 
did  make  her  swell  i'th  waste. 
^nd  still  would  he  cry^  a  Rat,  ^c. 

9  H[e  su]btilely2  this  perceiuing, 

to  the  Country  straight  doth  hie  him: 
Where  by  his  skill,  he  poysoneth  still, 
such  Vermine  as  come  nie  him. 
And  still  would  he  cry^  a  Rat^  ^c. 

ro    He  neuer  careth  whether 

he  be  sober,  lame,  or  tipsie: 
He  can  Collogue  with  any  Rogue, 
and  Cant  with  any  Gipsie. 

And  still  would  he  cry^  a  Rat^  &c. 

1 1  He  was  so  braue  a  bowzer, 

that  it  was  doubtful  whether 
He  taught  the  Rats,  or  the  Rats  taught  him 
to  be  druncke  as  Rats,  togeather. 
And  still  would  he  cry,  a  Rat,  ^c, 

12  When  he  had  tript  this  Hand, 

from  Bristow  vnto  Douer, 
With  painefull  Bagge  and  painted  Flagge, 
to  France  he  sayled  ouer. 

Tet  still  would  he  cry,  a  Rat  tat  tat, 
Tara  rat,  euer,  ^c. 


1  to  6".  2  Text  H  ebtilely. 



Sfje  3^atfeetcf)er£f  returne  out  of  Jfrance  to  Hontjon. 
tKo  tijc  siame  tune. 

13  T  N  France  when  he  ariued, 

i.  the  heat  so  much  perplext  him, 
That  all  his  Pouch  did  swell  so  much, 
and  Poyson  so  had  vext  him. 

That  scarce  could  he  cry^  a  Rat  tat  tat. 

tara  Rat^  euer: 
To  catch  a  Mouse,  or  to  carouse. 
Such  a  Ratter  I  saw  neuer. 

14  At  last,  as  Witches  common, 

must  vse  anothers  ayding : 
So  did  this  Ratter,  tell  the  matter 

to  another  of's  owne  trading.  | 

And  then  did  he  cry,  a  Rat  tat  tat.  &'c. 

1 5  Who  vsing  many  Simples, 

to  quench  his  fiery  burning: 
Did  make  him  daunce  cleane  out  of  France, 
And  home  hee's  now  returning. 
And  still  doth  he  cry,  a  Rat,  ^c. 

1 6  At  Douer  he  ariued, 

and  Kent  hath  had  his  cunning: 
The  Maydens  Lappes  like  poysoned  Rattes 
repent  his  backe-home  comming. 
For  still  doth  he  cry,  a  Rat,  i^c. 

17  At  Grauesend  'raongst  th.e  Maydens,  J 

Greene  sicknesse  reign'd  so  briefly, 
None  could  haue  cure,  but  such  as  sure 
would  take  his  Potions  chiefly. 
And  still  doth  he  cry,  a  Rat,  &'c. 

18    The  Shippe  wherein  he  sayled, 

ere  he  on  shore  ariued,  - 

Reports  him  that  he  kild  a  Ratte,  M 

that  nere  will  be  reuiued.  V 

And  still  doth  he  cry,  a  Rat,  &c. 



19  And  to  the  Fayre  in  Smithfield, 

he  now  is  gon  and  paced : 
To  search  with  Pole  for  the  Rat-knawne  hole 
that  him  so  much  outfaced. 

And  still  doth  he  cry^  a  Rat^  i^c. 

20  Now  to  the  Tipling  houses, 

to  kill  the  Vermine  featly: 
French  Rats  and  Mice  all  in  a  trice, 
he  will  destroy  full  neatly. 

And  still  doth  he  cry^  a  Rat,  &'c. 

2  I    An  vgly  Wench  to  see-to, 

whose  Nose  was  knawne  with  Vermin, 
The  Ratte  to  kill,  that  vsd  her  ill, 
to  vse  him  doth  determine. 

And  still  doth  he  cry^  a  Rat.  ^c. 

11    If  any  other  Maydens, 

or  Female  kinds,  will  vse  him. 
Come  call  him  quicke,  for  with  a  tricke 
hee's  gone,  if  you  refuse  him. 
And  still  doth  he  cry,  a  Rat,  &'c. 

23  To  Sturbridge  Fayre  his  iourny 

is  plotted,  and  appoynted: 
Approch  with  speed,  you  that  haue  need 
with  Poyson  to  be  noynted. 
And  still  doth  he  cry,  a  Rat,  ^c. 

24  When  backe  he  commeth  home-ward, 

obserue  his  Flagge  bepainted 
With  Mice  and  Rattes,  and  with  Poulcats, 
if  you  will  be  acquainted. 

And  heare  him  to  cry,  a  Rat  tat  tat, 

tara  Rat,  euer: 
To  catch  a  Mouse,  or  to  carouse, 
such  a  Ratter  I  saw  neuer. 

Imprinted  at  London  for  lohn  Trundle,  and  are  to  be  sold 
at  the  signe  of  the  No-body  in  Barbican. 

R.p.G.  65  E 

1 1 

T'he  history  of  y onus 

Pepys,  I,  28,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

This  may  have  been  the  ballad  of  "Jonas"  that  was  licensed  to  William 
Griffith  in  i  562-63,  or  "ye  story  of  Jonas"  licensed  to  Alexander  Lacy  in 
1567—68.  Evidently  similar  in  nature  were  ballads  called  "the  mysse 
Deades  of  Jonas  &c"  (i  569—70)  and  "nowe  haue  with  ye  to  Ninive  being 
a  sonnet  of  Repentance"  (September  5,  1586:  Arber's  Transcript,  i,  205, 
355,  410;  II,  457).  Edward  Allde,  the  printer  of  the  Pepysian  ballad, 
printed  ballads  during  the  years  i  584-1628:  as  a  mere  guess  his  "Jonah" 
may  be  dated  161 5.  It  is  a  fairly  close  metrical  paraphrase  of  the  four 
chapters  of  the  Book  of  Jonah.  Possibly  this  is  the  ballad  of  "Jonas  his 
Crying-out  against  Coventry"  that  the  Fiddler  in  Fletcher's  Monsieur 
Thomas  (iii,  iii)  says  he  can  sing. 

The  story  of  Jonah  was,  like  that  of  Hero  and  Leander,  a  favourite  for 
puppet-shows.  The  great  dramatists  took  especial  delight  in  ridiculing 
them.  "There's  a  new  motion  of  the  city  of  Nineveh,  with  Jonas  and  the 
whale,  to  be  seen  at  Fleet-bridge,"  says  Fungoso,  in  Jonson's  Every  Man 
out  of  His  Humour,  1599,  11,  i.  In  Greene  and  Peele's  Loo  king-Glass  for 
London  and  England,  1594,  a  remarkable  stage-direction  runs:  "Jonas  is 
cast  out  of  the  whale's  belly  upon  the  stage." 

The  tune  of  Paggington's  (or  Packingtons)  Pound  (or  Round),  a  tune 
(used  by  Ben  Jonson  for  a  ballad  of  his  own  composition  in  Bartholomew 
Fair)  that  always  entails  a  very  attractive  metrical  and  stanzaic  form,  is 
given  in  ChappeU's  Popular  Music,  i,  123. 

tKije  ijis^torie  of  tfje  ^ropfjet  lonas. 
tKfie  repentance  of  Niniuie  ttjat  great  Citie,  fcofjicf)  toasi  48. 
mile£f  in  tompasisie,  fjauins  a  tfiousianb  anb  fine  tjwntrreli 
CotDersi  atiout  tfie  siame,  anb  at  tiie  time  of  i)ts:  preaching 
tljere  toasi  a  fjunbreb  anb  tfcDentp  tfjousfanb  Cftilbren  tfierein. 

To  the  tune  of  Paggingtons  round. 



VNto  the  Prophet  lonas  I  read, 
The  word  of  the  Lord  secretly  came, 
Saying  to  Niniuy  passe  thou  with  speed. 
To  that  mightie  Citie  of  wondrous  fame. 
Against  it  quoth  he 
cry  out  and  be  free. 
Their  wickednesse  great  is  come  vp  to  me. 
Sinne  is  the  cause  of  great  sorrow  and  care, 
But  God  through  repentance  his  vengeance  doth  spare. 

Then  lonas  rose  vp  immediatly, 

And  from  the  presence  of  the  Lord  God, 

He  sought  by  sea  away  to  flie. 

And  went  downe  to  loppa  where  many  ships  rode. 

The  fare  he  did  pay, 

and  so  got  away. 
And  thus  the  Lords  word  he  did  disobey. 
Sinn  is  the  cause  of  great  sorrow  and  care. 
But  God  through  repentance,  &c. 

But  God  sent  out  such  a  mighty  great  winde. 
That  a  sore  tempest  vpon  the  sea  came  : 
Which  greatly  tormented  the  Marriners  minde 
Their  ship  being  like  to  be  broke  by  the  same. 

And  being  afraid, 

no  time  they  delaide: 
But  each  vnto  his  God  earnestly  praide. 
Sinne  is  the  cause  of  great  sorrow  and  care. 
But  God  through  repentance,  &c. 

Yet  seeing  the  tempest  continue  so  sore 
To  lighten  their  ship  they  thought  it  the  best. 
Into  the  rough  sea,  therefore  they  cast  ore, 
All  their  rich  marchandize  ere  they  did  rest, 

but  while  they  did  weepe, 

lonas  did  sleepe, 
And  vnder  the  hatches  himselfe  he  did  keepe. 
Sinne  is  the  cause  of  great  sorrow  and  care, 
But  God  through  repentance,  &c. 

67  p-2 


5  Then  came  the  Shipmaster  to  lonas  in  hast, 
Saying  thou  sluggard  why  sleepest  thou  so? 
We  being  in  danger  away  to  be  cast, 

Rise,  pray  to  thy  God  to  release  our  great  woe. 

for  well  you  may  see, 

that  likely  we  be. 
Each  one  to  be  drowned  without  remedy, 
Sinne  is  the  cause  of  sorrow  and  care: 
But  God  through  repentance,  &c. 

6  Then  each  vnto  his  fellow  did  say. 

Come  let  vs  cast  lots  betweene  vs  each  one. 
To  know  for  which  of  our  sinnes  this  day. 
This  grieuous  tempest  vpon  vs  is  blowne. 

Then  truth  for  to  tell, 

when  wisely  and  well. 
The  lots  were  all  cast,  vpon  lonas  it  fell. 
Sinne  is  the  cause  of  great  sorrow  and  care. 
But  God  through  repentance,  &c. 

7  When  they  perceiued  the  lot  to  fall  so. 
They  asked  of  lonas  immediatly : 

from  whence  he  did  come  and  where  he  would  goe, 
Where  he  was  borne  and  in  what  countrie. 

then  lonas  replide, 

and  neuer  denide. 
But  all  the  whole  truth  vnto  them  discride, 
Sinne  is  the  cause  of  great  sorrow  and  care. 
But  God  through  repentance,  &c. 

8  I  am  an  Hebrew  you  shall  vnderstand, 
And  the  Lord  God  of  heauen  I  onely  serue: 
Which  made  the  sea  and  eke  the  dry  land, 
But  from  his  commandement  late  I  did  swarue. 

In  seeking  to  flie, 

from  his  maiestie. 
He  hath  laid  vpon  me  this  great  misery. 
Sinne  is  the  cause  of  sorrow  and  care, 
But  God  through  repentance,  &c. 





9    Then  said  the  Mariners  tell  vs  with  speed, 
What  shall  we  doe  with  thee  in  this  case: 
That  this  great  tempest  may  cease  in  our  need, 
Which  rageth  extreamly  in  euery  place. 
Cast  mee  in  the  sea. 
thus  lonas  did  say, 
For  'tis  for  my  sake  you  are  plagued  this  day, 
Sinne  is  the  causer  of  sorrow  and  care. 
But  God  through  repentance,  &c. 

10  Neuerthelesse  the  men  were  afraid. 

And  sought  for  to  row  the  ship  vnto  Land: 
But  could  not  preuaile  the  tempest  so  plaid. 
That  they  in  great  perrill  of  life  still  did  stand. 

O  Lord  then  quoth  they, 

we  humbly  pray. 
For  this  man  let  vs  not  perish  this  day, 
sinne  is  the  cause  of  great  sorrow  and  care,  &c. 
But  God  through  repentance,  &c. 

1 1  Then  tooke  they  vp  lonas  in  place  where  he  stood. 
And  threw  him  out  of  the  ship  in  the  sea: 

And  presently  the  fierce  raging  flood. 
With  the  great  tempest  the  Lord  did  alay. 

and  then  presently, 

they  all  did  espie. 
That  the  sea  most  calme  and  most  quiet  did  lie. 
Sinne  is  the  cause  of  great  sorrow  and  care. 
But  God  through  repentance,  &c.  . 

Cfje  geconli  part.  tKo  tfje  game  tune. 

12  A    Great  W^hale  fish  the  Lord  sent  that  way, 
-/a.  Which  swallowed  vp  lonas  immediatly. 
Three  daies  and  three  nights  in  his  belly  he  lay, 
And  there  full  oft  to  the  Lord  he  did  cry. 

Then  God  did  command. 

The  Whale  out  of  hand, 
To  cast  vp  the  Prophet  vpon  the  dry  land, 
Sinne  is  the  causer  of  sorrow  and  care,  &c. 



1 3  The  word  of  the  Lord  came  to  lonas  againe, 
Saying  goe  to  Niniuies  mighty  Citie : 

And  preach  vnto  that  people  most  plaine, 
The  words  which  I  before  shewed  thee, 

then  lonas  arose, 

to  the  Citie  he  goes, 
And  daily  to  them  Gods  iudgement  he  shewes, 
Fortie^  daies  after  yet  remaineth  quoth  he, 
And  Niniuie  then  destroyed  shall  be. 

14  The  King  and  the  people  oi  Niniuy  then, 
At  lonas  preaching  repented  full  sore : 

They  proclaimed  a  fast  both  to  beastes  and  to  men, 
And  sackcloth  and  ashes  most  humbly  they  wore, 

and  most  bitterly, 

to  God  they  did  cry. 
Asking  forgiuenesse  and  crauing  mercy. 
For  forty  daies  yet  remaineth  quoth  he, 
And  Niniuy  then  destroyed  shall  be. 

1 5  Their  great  repentance  the  Lord  did  behold. 
Their  true  humble  hearts  in  euery  degree: 
To  them  his  mercy  he  did  then  vnfold 

And  turned  his  punishment  from  their  Citie. 

his  fauour  and  grace, 

he  sent  to  that  place, 
And  all  their  offences  he  cleane  did  deface. 
Sinne  is  the  causer  of  sorrow  and  care,  &c. 

1 6  At  this  was  lonas  greatly  displeasd, 
And  thus  to  the  Lord  in  anger  he  said : 
Now  well  I  see  thy  wrath  is  appeas'd, 
Whereby  all  falshood  to  me  will  be  laid. 

and  therefore  quoth  he, 

most  blest  should  I  be. 
If  my  hatefull  life  thou  shouldst  take  now  from  me. 
Sinne  is  the  causer  of  sorrow  and  care,  &c. 

1  Text  Footie. 


17  So  lonas  went  out  of  the  Citie  with  speed, 
And  on  the  east  a  boothe  he  did  make: 
There  to  behold,  to  marke  and  take  heed, 

what  course  with  the  city  the  Lord  God  would  take, 

where  God  in  one  night, 

brought  vp  in  his  sight, 
A  wilde  vine  to  shadow  him  from  the  Suns  heate. 
Sinne  is  the  causer  of  sorrow  and  care,  &c. 

1 8  lonas  of  this  was  wondrous  glad. 

For  great  was  the  force  of  the  Sun  in  that  place. 
And  he  by  that  meanes  a  good  couering  had. 
But  God  the  next  day  the  vine  did  deface. 

so  then  the  Suns  heate: 

on  him  did  so  beat. 
That  for  this  vine  lonas  his  anger  was  great. 
Sin  is  the  causer  of  sorrow  and  care,  &c. 

1 9  Then  said  the  Lord  God  to  lonas  againe. 
And  dost  thou  well  to  be  angry  for  this.'' 
He  said  I  doe  well  to  be  angry  certaine. 
Seeing  my  comfort  so  soone  I  doe  misse. 

and  better  quoth  he, 

it  is  now  for  me. 
To  die  then  to  Hue  in  this  miserie, 
Sinne  is  the  causer  of  sorrow  and  care,  &c. 

20  And  hast  thou  such  pitty  the  Lord  God  did  say. 
On  this  wilde  Vine  which  sprung  in  one  night: 
And  in  a  night  likewise  did  wither  away. 
Which  thou  neuer  plantedst,  nor  cost  thee  a  mite. 

then  why  should  not  I, 

in  tender  mercy, 
Pitty  this  great  repenting  Citie? 
Sinne  is  the  cause  of  great  sorrow  and  care, 
But  God  by  repentance  his  vengeance  doth  spare. 


Printed  at  London  by  E.J. 


The  cucking  of  a  scold 

Pepys,  I,  454,  B.L.,  one  woodcut,  three  columns. 

An  amusing  and  a  highly  interesting  description  of  how  scolds  were, 
after  due  process  of  law,  ducked  is  given  in  this  ballad.  The  cucking  was 
no  tame  affair,  but  was  instead  an  elaborate  ceremonial  involving  a  parade 
in  which  a  hundred  archers,  a  hundred  armed  men,  and  fifty  parrots  took 
part.  There  are  ballads  out  of  number  on  scolds,  but  most  of  them  tell  of 
the  desperate  remedies  applied  in  more  or  less  privacy  by  the  martyred 
husbands,  and  none,  I  believe,  deals  with  a  public  cucking  such  as  befell 
this  "dainty  scold  in  grain."  That  her  type  still  lingers  would  appear  from 
the  case  of  a  woman  who  was  tried  and  convicted  of  being  a  "  common  scold  " 
by  the  Criminal  Court  of  Pittsburgh,  Pennsylvania,  on  February  i8,  1921. 
There  seventeen  families  testified  that  they  were  scandalized  "when  they 
left  their  houses  for  a  minute  and  that  such  epithets  as  'poor  fish,'  'moun- 
tain of  flesh'  and  'dirty  long  legs'  were  hurled  at  them"  by  the  scold  in 
question.  This  scold  was  sentenced  to  pay  the  costs  of  the  case  and  to  move 
from  the  neighbourhood. 

The  printer  G.P.  could  have  been  either  George  Purslowe  or  George 
Potter,  who  printed  during  the  years  1614-1632  and  i  599-1616  respec- 
tively. I  suspect  that  the  ballad  dates  at  least  as  early  as  161  5.  Its  first 
appearance  was  probably  at  an  earlier  date  even  than  1615.  The  tune, 
usually  referred  to  as  The  Merchantman,  comes  from  a  ballad  of  Thomas 
Deloney's  of  the  date  March  22,  1594.  The  music  is  given  in  Chappell's 
Popular  Music,  i,  381. 

W(st  Cucfeing  of  a  ^coulb. 

To  the  tune  of.  The  Merchant  of  Em  den. 

I      A    Wedded  wife  there  was, 
■LX.  I  wis  of  yeeres  but  yong, 
But  if  you  thinke  she  wanted  wit, 
He  sweare  she  lackt  no  tongue, 
lust  seventeene  yeeres  of  age, 
This  woman^  was  no  more, 
^  Text  women. 


Yet  she  would  scold  with  any  one, 
From  twenty  to  threescore. 
The  cucking  of  a  Scold^ 
The  cucking  of  a  Scold^ 
Which  if  you  will  but  stay  to  he  are 
The  cucking  of  a  Scold. 

2  As  nimble  as  an  Eele, 

This  womans  tongue  did  wag, 
And  faster  you  shall  haue  it  runne. 
Then  any  ambling  Nag. 
But  without  mighty  wrong. 
She  would  not  shew  her  skill. 
But  if  that  she  were  moued  once 
The  sport^  was  not  so  ill. 
The  cucking  ^c. 

3  Each  man  might  quickly  know,^ 
When  as  the  game  begun,^ 

But  none  could  tell  you  for  his  life. 
What  time  she  would  haue  done. 
She  was  a  famous  Scould, 
A  dainty  Scould  in  graine, 
A  stouter  Scould  was  neuer  bred 
Nor  borne  in  Turne-gaine  Lane. 
The  cucking  ^c. 

4  Upon  a  time  it  chanc'd. 
And  she  did  thus  alledge, 

A  neighbours  maid  had  taken  halfe 
Her  dish-clout  from  the  hedge: 
For  which  great  trespasse  done. 
This  wrong  for  to  requite, 
She  scolded  very  hansomely. 
Two  daies  and  one  whole  night. 
The  cucking  &'c. 

^  sport:  zcorc/  indecipherable.  ^  Text  has  a  period. 



5  Which  something  did  molest 
The  neighbours  round  about: 
But  this  was  nothing  to  the  fits 
That  she  would  thunder  out. 
But  once,  the  truth  to  tell, 
Worse  scolding  did  she  keepe. 
For  waking  of  her  little  Dog, 
That  in  the  Sun  did  sleepe. 

The  cucking,  &'c. 

6  Six  winter  dayes  together. 
From  morning  eight  a  clocke. 
Until  the  euening  that  each  one 
Their  doores  began  to  lock  : 
She  scolded  for  this  wrong. 
Which  she  accounted  great. 
And  vnto  peace  and  quietnesse 
No  man  could  her  intreat. 

The  cucking  ifj'c. 

7  So  that  this  little  Deuill, 
With  her  vnquiet  tongue, 
Continually  both  far  and  neere, 
Molested  old  and  yong. 

But  yet  soone  after  this. 
She  made  a  greater  brawle, 
Against  the  Constable,  that  did 
But  pisse  against  her  wall. 
The  cucking,  ^c. 

8  She  cal'd  him  beastly  knaue. 
And  filthy  lacke  for  this, 

And  said  that  euery  Cuckold  now 
Against  her  wall  must  pisse: 
And  in  most  raging  sort. 
She  rail'd  at  him  so  long. 
He  made  a  vow  he  would  reuenge 
This  most  outragious  wrong  ^. 
The  cucking,  ^c. 
^  Text  worng. 



9    And  first  of  all  behold, 
He  clapt  her  in  the  Cage, 
Thinking  thereby  her  deuillish  tongue, 
He  would  full  well  asswage. 
But  now  worse  then  before. 
She  did  to  brawling  fall. 
The  Constable  and  all  the  rest 
She  vildly  did  miscall. 
The  cuckingj  ^c. 

10  Thus  night  and  day  she  sent 
Such  brawling  from  her  brest, 
That  ner  a  neighbour  in  the  towne 
Could  take  one  houres  rest. 
Which  when  the  Justice  knew, 
This  Judgement  than  gaue  he, 
That  she  vpon  a  cucking  stoole 
Should  iustly  punisht  be. 

The  cuckingy  (s'c. 

1 1  Vpon  three  market  dayes. 
This  penance  she  should  bide. 
And  euery  thing  fit  for  the  same,^ 
The  Officers  did  prouide: 

An  hundred  Archers  good, 
Did  first  before  her  goe, 
A  hundred  and  fiue  nimble  shot 
Went  next  vnto  the  Roe. 
'  The  cucking  ^c. 

12  An  hundred  armed  men 
Did  also  follow  there: 

The  which  did  guard  the  gallant  Scould 
With  piercing  Pikes  and  Speare: 
And  trumpets^  sounding  sweet. 
In  order  with  them  comes 
A  company  most  orderly. 
With  pleasant  Phifes  and  Drums. 
The  cucking^  i^c. 
1  Text  has  a  period.  ^  Text  trumptes. 



1 3  And  forty  Parrats  then, 
On  sundry  pearches  hie, 

Were  carried  eke  before  the  scould, 
Most  fine  and  orderly 
And  last  of  all  a  mighty  wispe 
Was  borne  before  her  face. 
The  perfect  token  of  a  Scould 
Well  knowne  in  euery  place. 
The  cucking^  ^c. 

14  Then  was  the  Scould  her  selfe,i 
In  a  wheele-barrow  brought,^ 
Stripped  naked  to  the  smocke, 
As  in  that  case  she  ought: 
Neats  tongues  about  her  necke 

.  Were  hung  in  open  show; 
And  thus  vnto  the  cucking  stoole 
This  famous  Scould  did  goe. 
The  cucking^  &'c. 

15  Then  fast  within  the  chaire 
She  was  most  finely  bound. 
Which  made  her  scold  excessiuely, 
And  said  she  should  be  drown'd. 
But  euery  time  that  she 

Was  in  the  water  dipt. 

The  drums  &  trumpets  sounded  braue, 

For  ioy  the  people  skipt. 

TAe  cucki.g,  (^c.  ^ 

16  Six  times  when  she  was  duckt 
Within  the  water  cleare,i 
That  like  vnto  a  drowned  Rat, 
She  did  in  sight  appeare. 
The  Justice  thinking  then 
To  send  her  straight  away, 

^  Text  has  a  period. 


The  Constable  she  called  knaue, 
And  knau'd  him  all  the  day. 
The  cucking  &'c. 

17  Upon  which  words,  I  wot, 
They  duckt  her  straight  againe 

A  dozen  times  ore  head  and  eares: 
Yet  she  would  not  refraine, 
But  still  reuil'd  them  all. 
Then  to  't  againe  they  goe. 
Till  she  at  last  held  vp  her  hands, 
Saying,  I'le  no  more  doe  so. 
T/ie  cucking  &'c. 

1 8  Then  was  she  brought  away. 
And  after  for  her  life. 

She  neuer  durst  begin  to  scould 

With  either  man  or  wife. 

And  if  that  euery  Scould 

Might  haue  so  good  a  diet, 

Then  should  their  neighbours  euery  day 

Be  sure  to  Hue  in  quiet. 

The  cucking  of  a  Scould^ 
The  cucking  of  a  Scould 
Which  if  you  will  but  stay  to  heare 
The  cucking  of  a  Scould. 

Printed  at  London  by  G.P. 

^  No  period  in  the  text. 



Ten  shillings  for  a  kiss 

Pepys,  I,  316,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

The  date  is  probably  about  161 5 :  John  White  printed  during  the  years 
161 3— 1625.  The  ballad  is  unusual  in  having  a  second  part  in  a  different 
measure  and  to  a  different  tune  from  the  first  part.  Rare  indeed  is  this 
procedure^.  When,  towards  the  end  of  the  sixteenth  century,  printers 
began  to  divide  ballads  into  two  parts,  they  felt  that  each  part  was  an 
entity,  and  sometimes,  as  in  the  case  of  the  well-known  "Widow  of 
Wading  Street,"  actually  printed  each  part  on  a  separate  broadside.  Two 
tunes  and  different  measures  were  then  appropriate.  In  a  few  years,  how- 
ever, every  ballad  came  to  have  two  parts,  but  the  division  was  a  purely 
mechanical  device  due  to  \}(vq.  forme \  as  a  result,  only  one  tune  could  be 
used,  and  the  formula,  "The  second  part.  To  the  same  tune,"  became 

The  ballad  is  unique  in  manner  and  contents,  and  is  rather  clever.  The 
maid  bids  an  astonishingly  high  price  for  a  kiss,  for,  as  her  lover  tells  her, 
other  maidens  are  offering  for  a  husband  only  five  shillings.  In  stanzas  19—2 1 
there  is  a  general  allusion  to  other  ballads  made  by  love-lorn  damsels  and  a 
specific  reference  to  "A  Maiden's  Lamentation  for  a  Bedfellow.  Or,  I  can, 
nor  will  no  longer  lye  alone.  As  it  hath  been  often  sung  at  the  Court.  To 
the  tune  of/  will  give  thee  kisses,  one,  two,  or  three"  (Pepys,  i,  246,  286). 

The  first  tune  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  315;  the  second, 
equivalent  to  /  will  give  thee  kisses,  one,  two,  or  three,  is  unknovni;  it 
seems  to  involve  a  refrain  of  "sweeter  than  the  honey"  and  "sweeter  than 
the  blossoms,"  both  of  which  are  used  throughout  in  No.  21. 

^  There  are  other  examples  in  the  Pepys  collection,  e.g.  the  ballads  of 
"Nobody  loves  mee,"  with  its  first  part  to  the  tune  of  Philliday,  its  second 
to  Dainty,  come  thou  to  me,  and  "The  Lover's  Lamentation  to  his  Love 
Nancy,"  with  its  first  part  to  the  tune  of  Did  you  see  Nan  today?  its  second 
to  Virginia  (Pepys,  i,  430,  and  332). 


Wf^isi  iHaitie  tooulb  gme  tenne  ^t)i[UnQsi  for  a  Misiit: 

To  the  Tune  of  S^a//  I  wrastle  in  despaire. 

1  ^\/'Ou  young  men  all  take  pitty  on  me, 

i      the  haplessest  Maid  you  euer  did  see: 
Refus'd  of  all,  of  all  neglected, 

hated  of  all  and  by  none  affected : 
The  cause  I  know  not:  well  I  know, 

their  fond  neglect  procures  my  woe. 
Then  since  their  hopefull  loues  I  misse, 

come,  here's  ten  shillings  for  a  kisse. 

2  I  doe  as  much  as  a  Maide  can  doe, 

for  gainst  my  nature  I  doe  woe : 
I  vse  all  meanes  that  ere  I  can, 

to  get  the  loue  of  a  proper  man : 
Yet  let  me  vse  the  best  of  skill, 

they  still  deny,  and  crosse  my  will: 
Then  since  their  hopefull  loues  I  misse: 

come  here's  ten  shillings  for  a  kisse. 

3  With  Sieuet  sweet  I  make  me  fine, 

with  sweet  complection  I  doe  shine: 
With  beautious  colours  passing  deere, 

I  paint  and  prune,  yet  nere  the  neere. 
My  cost  is  vaine,  so  well  it  proues : 

for  all  my  cost  there's  no  man  loues : 
Then  since  their  hopefull  loues  I  misse, 

come  here's  ten  shillings  for  a  kisse. 

4  I  haue  a  face  as  fayre  as  any, 

my  nose  and  lip  surpasseth  many, 
I  haue  an  eye  that  rowling  lies, 

though  theies  are  better  to  intice: 
Why  should  all  men  disdaining  proue? 

and  worser  beauties  dearely  loue  ? 
But  since  their  hopefull  loues  I  misse: 

come  here's  ten  shillings  for  a  kisse. 



5  My  armes  are  nimble  to  each  poynt, 

actiue  I  am  in  euery  ioynt: 
I  am  not  as  some  maidens  are, 

so  coy,  for  young  men  not  to  care, 
Why  should  I  then  disdained  be? 

when  those  are  lou'd  be  worse  then  me? 
But  since  their  hopefull  loues  I  misse: 

come  here's  ten  shillings  for  a  kisse. 

6  My  waste  is  small,  and  likewise  long, 

my  leg  well  calft,  and  boned  strong, 
My  pretty  foote  you  all  may  feele, 

is  not  in  bredth  an  inch  in  th'  heele. 
From  head  to  foote  in  euery  part, 

I  seeme  a  building  fram'd  by  Art: 
Yet  since  their  hopefull  loues  I  misse, 

come  here's  ten  shillings  for  a  kisse.       • 

7  Yet  man's  obdurate  to  my  mones, 

they  all  stand  senslesse  of  my  grones, 
They  nere  regard  a  proper  maide: 

great  heyres  are  tane  and  she  denaid, 
Yet  by  all  meanes  I  will  assay, 

to  gaine  mens  loues  as  well  as  they: 
For  since  their  hopefull  loues  I  misse, 

come  here's  ten  shillings  for  a  kisse. 

8  Is  Cupid  dead,  will  he  not  strike, 

and  make  some  man  perforce  to  like: 
Or  is  he  angry  with  a  creature, 

making  me  Hue  the  scorne  of  nature: 
Or  is  his  dart  in  's  Ouiuer  fast: 

oh  no,  I  hope  heele  strike  at  last: 
Since  I  their  hopefull  loues  do  misse, 

come  here's  ten  shillings  for  a  kisse. 

9  To  the  Dauncing  schoole  I  vsuall  goe, 

and  learne  farre  more  then  many  doe 
Oft  I  resort  to  weddings  for  this, 
onely  to  gayne  a  young  mans  kisse. 



Yet  though  my  dauncing  be  so  good,* 
by  all  youth  there  I  am  withstood: 

Then  since  their  hopefull  loues  I  misse, 
come  here's  ten  shillings  for  a  kisse. 

lo   Let  Venus  guide  some  young  mans  hart, 

or  Anthropos  strike  here  thy  Dart: 
Let  young  men  pitty  my  hard  state, 

or  proue  like  me  vnfortunate. 
Come  gentle  young  men  ease  my  griefe, 

nought  but  a  kisse  can  giue  reliefe, 
For  since  their  hopefull  loues  I  misse: 

come  here's  ten  shillings  for  a  kisse. 

Printed  at  London  by  /.  White. 

tCfjE  ^econb  ^art  sffjebbett  ifjcc  map  fjaue  tfjem 
Cfjeape  3  tm'si : 

To  the  Tune  /  can  nor  will  no  longer  lye  alone. 

1 1  A  Lack  fayre  Maide,  why  dost  thou  grone, 
-ti.   Is  it  for  a  kisse,  alack  but  for  one? 

Nay  thou  shalt  haue  a  hundred  one  two  or  three, 
More  sweeter  then  the  hunny  that  comes  from  the  Bee. 

12  Doe  not  thinke  we  men  are  vnkind. 
For  a  Kisse  or  two  to  stay  behinde: 

Nay  thou  shalt  haue  a  hundred  one  two  or  three. 
More  sweter  then  the  blossomes  from  the  Tree. 

1 3  All  Maydes  they  say,  not  as  you  say. 
For  if  that  we  pray,  they  will  say  nay: 

The  more  that  we  seeke  they  still  will  reply. 
Alack  they  cannot  loue,  yet  know  not  why. 

1  Text  has  a  period.  2  j-^^^  FUNS. 

R.p.G.  81  F 


14  I  doe  not  condem  all  of  your  kind, 

But  such  that  beare  a  froward  faithles  minde: 
The  good  I  doe  protest,  I  loue  with  my  heart, 
And  with  the  euill  I,  will  not  take  part. 

15  Wee  men  are  constant  and  Women  to  blame 
To  be  vnconstant,  to  their  loues  a  shame : 

Yet  tell  them  of  their  faults,  they  still  will  reply, 
They  will  haue  their  wills,^  yet  know  not  why. 

16  I  would  all  Maides  were  of  thy  minde, 
Then  should  we  Men  to  woemen  be  kinde: 
And  in  loue  and  Amitie  agree. 

More  sweter  then^  the  hunny  that  comes  from  the  Bee. 

1 7  Many  examples  I  could  procure. 
Shewing  men  constant  in  their  loue: 

Which  thou  shalt  finde  in  mee  I  tell  thee  plaine, 
Come  kisse  me  gentle  Sweeting  O  Kisse  againe. 

1 8  There  dwels  a  Mayd  in  our  Towne  greene. 
With  whome  many  Louers,  I  haue  scene: 

Yet  shee's  so  coy,  God  wot  she  will  haue  none. 
But  lead  a  single  life  all  alone. 

19  But  how  it  falles  I  doe  not  know, 

A  Ballet  they  say,  now  doth  it  show : 

That  sighing  and  protesting,  she  makes  her  mone, 

She  can  nor  will  no  longer  lye  alone. 

20  An  other  lately  as  I  heare. 
That  vow'd  to  Hue  a  Mayden  forty  yeere : 
Fiue  shillings  for  a  Husband  now  doth  cry. 
If  that  she  be  not  holpen,  alack  shee'l  die. 

2 1  Come^  Ginny  come  an  other  cryes, 
With  the  trickling  teares  in  her  eyes: 
My  Mayden  head  alacke  it  troubles  me, 

0  Ginny  Ginny  I,  may  say  to  thee. 

1  Text  wiles.  ^  ^g^t  uhen.  ^  jg^t  Co  we. 



22  Doe  not  blush  at  this  I  speake, 

For  alacke  I  know  your  Sex  is  weaker 

Let  coy  Dames  passe  away,  refusing  their  blisse, 

Upon  thy  sweet  Hpes  I  doe  seale  this  Kisse. 

23  And  now  to  conclud  this  my  Songe. 
Alacke  for  a  Kisse  thou  hast  stayd  too  long: 
Nay  thou  deseru'st  a  thousand  one  two  or  three, 
More  sweeter  then  the  blossomes  of  the  Tree. 


Printed  at  London  by  /.  White. 



Anne  W^allen'^s  lamentation 

Pepys,  I,  124,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

A  "good-night"  by  T.  Platte,  an  author  known  only  by  this  one  pro- 
duction. For  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  162. 

Professor  Kittredge  points  out  the  following  passage  in  a  letter  written 
by  John  Chamberlain  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton  on  July  6,  161 6  {The  Court 
and  Times  of  James  I,  i,  418): 

There  was  a  seminary  priest  hanged  at  Tyburn  on  Monday . . .  That  morning 
early,  there  was  a  joiner's  wife  burnt  in  Smithfield  for  killing  her  husband.  If 
the  case  were  no  otherwise  than  I  can  learn  it,  she  had  summum  jus\}^\  for  her 
husband  having  brawled  and  beaten  her,  she  took  up  a  chisal,  or  some  such 
other  instrument,  and  flung  at  him,  which  cut  him  into  the  belly,  whereof  he 

As  July  6  came  on  Saturday,  July  i  was  Monday.  On  July  i,  according 
to  the  ballad,  Anne  Wallen  was  burned,  so  that  to  her  execution  Chamber- 
lain's comment  seems  applicable.  For  comments  on  burning  women  as  a 
punishment  for  petty  treason  see  the  introduction  to  No.  52. 




^nne  ^^alleng  lamentation, 

Jfor  tfje  iHurtfjering  of  i^ev  ijusitianb  lo/in  Wallen  a 

Curner  in  CotD=lane  neere  ^mitfjfielti ;  trone  i3j>  \s\&  otone 

tDife,  on  siatterijap  tfje  22.  of  Siine.  1616.  tofto  toag  tiurnt 

in  ^mitfjfieltr  tfje  first  of  HJulp  foUotoing. 

To  the  tune  oi  Fortune  my  foe. 

I    /^^  Reat  God  that  sees  al  things  that  here  are  don 
v_J    Keeping  thy  Court  with  thy  celestiall  Son; 
Heere  her  complaint  that  hath  so  sore  offended, 
Forgiue  my  fact  before  my  Hfe  is  ended. 

1    Ah  me  the  shame  vnto  all  women  kinde, 
To  harbour  such  a  thought  within  my  minde: 
That  now  hath  made  me  to  the  world  a  scorne, 
And  makes  me  curse  the  time  that  I  was  borne. 

3  O  would  to  God  my  mothers  haples  wombe, 
Before  my  birth  had  beene  my  happy  tombe: 
Or  would  to  God  when  first  I  did  take  breath, 
That  I  had  suffered  any  painefull  death. 

4  If  euer  dyed  a  true  repentant  soule, 

Then  I  am  she,  whose  deedes  are  blacke  and  foule : 
Then  take  heed  wiues  be  to  your  husbands  kinde, 
And  beare  this  lesson  truely  in  your  minde, 

5  Let  not  your  tongus  oresway  true  reasons  bounds, 
Which  in  your  rage  your  vtmost  rancour  sounds: 
A  woman  that  is  wise  should  seldome  speake, 
Unlesse  discreetly  she  her  words  repeat.^ 

6  Oh  would  that  I  had  thought  of  this  before. 
Which  now  to  thinke  on  makes  my  heart  full  sore: 
Then  should  I  not  haue  done  this  deed  so  foule. 
The  which  hath  stained  my  immortall  soule. 

^  No  period  in  the  text. 



7  Tis  not  to  dye  that  thus  doth  cause  me  grieue, 
I  am  more  willing  far  to  die  then  Hue; 

But  tis  for  blood  which  mounteth  to  the  skies, 
And  to  the  Lord  reuenge,  reuenge,  it  cries. 

8  My  dearest  husband  did  I  wound  to  death, 
And  was  the  cause  he  lost  his  sweetest  breath. 
But  yet  I  trust  his  soule  in  heauen  doth  dwell, 
And  mine  without  Gods  mercy  sinkes  to  hell. 

9  In  London  neere  to  smithfield  did  I  dwell. 
And  mongst  my  neighbours  was  beloued  well: 
Till  that  the  Deuill  wrought  me  this  same  spight, 
That  all  their  loues  are  turnd  to  hatred  quight. 

lo   lohn  W alien  was  my  louing  husbands  name, 
Which  long  hath  liu'd  in  London  in  good  fame. 
His  trade  a  Turner,  as  was  knowne  full  well. 
My  name  An  Wallen^  dolefull  tale  to  tell. 

^nnc  toallens  Hamcntation, 

^x  tije  Jfecontr  part  of  t^e  murtfjer  of  one  lohn  Wallen 

a  tKurner  in  Cotolane  neere  ^mitfjf ielb ;  bone  tip  ijiJS 

otone  toife,  on  gaterbap  tfje  22  of  HJune  1616.  toljo  toasf 

burnt  in  ^mitfjfielti  tlje  firsit  of  3ulj»  follotoing. 

To  the  tune  of  Fortune  m"^  foe. 

11  IV /T  Y  husband  hauing  beene  about  the  towne, 
iVJL  And  comming  home,  he  on  his  bed  lay  down : 

To  rest  himselfe,  which  when  I  did  espie, 
I  fell  to  rayling  most  outragiously. 

12  I  cald  him  Rogue,  and  slaue,  and  all  to  naught. 
Repeating  the  worst  language  might  be  thought 
Thou  drunken  knaue  I  said,  and  arrant  sot. 
Thy  minde  is  set  on  nothing  but  the  pot. 



1 3  Sweet  heart  he  said  I  pray  thee  hold  thy  tongue, 
And  if  thou  dost  not,  I  shalP  doe  thee  wrong, 
At  which,  straight  way  I  grew  in  worser  rage, 
That  he  by  no  meanes  could  my  tongue  asswage. 

14  He  then  arose  and  strooke  me  on  the  eare, 
I  did  at  him  begin  to  curse  and  sweare: 
Then  presently  one  of  his  tooles  I  got. 
And  on  his  body  gaue  a  wicked  stroake.^ 

15  Amongst  his  intrailes  I  this  Chissell  threw. 
Where  as  his  Caule  came  out,  for  which  I  rue. 
What  hast  thou  don,  I  prethee  looke  quoth  he. 
Thou  hast  thy  wish,  for  thou  hast  killed  me, 

16  When  this  was  done  the  neighbours  they  ran  in. 
And  to  his  bed  they  streight  conueyed  him: 
Where  he  was  drest  and  liu'd  till  morne  next  day, 
Yet  he  forgaue  me  and  for  me  did  pray. 

1 7  No  sooner  was  his  breath  from  body  fled. 
But  vnto  Newgate  straight  way  they  me  led : 
Where  I  did  lie  vntill  the  Sizes  came, 

Which  was  before  I  there  three  daies  had  laine. 

18  Mother  in  lawe,  forgiue  me  I  you  pray, 
For  I  haue  made  your  onely  childe  away, 
Euen  all  you  had;  my  selfe  made  husbandlesse, 
My  life  and  all,  cause  I  did  so  transgresse. 

19  He  nere  did  wrong  to  any  in  his  life, 

But  he  too  much  was  wronged  by  his  wife; 
Then  wiues  be  warn'd,  example  take  by  me. 
Heauens  graunt  no  more  that  such  a  one  may  be. 

1  Text  sha]]  shall.  ^  No  period  in  the  text. 



20   My  iudgement  then  it  was  pronounced  plaine, 
Because  my  dearest  husband  I  had  slaine: 
In  burning  flames  of  fire  I  should  fry, 
Receiue  my  soule  sweet  Jesus  now  I  die. 

T:  Platte. 

Printed  for  Henry  Gosson,  and  are  to  be  solde 
at  his  shop  on  London  bridge. 



Sir  Walter  Raleigh'' s  lamentation 

Pepys,  I,  III,  B.L.,  one  poor  woodcut  of  a  ship,  four  columns.  A  fac- 
simile reproduction  of  this  ballad,  with  a  brief  introductory  note  by  Pro- 
fessor C.  H.  Firth,  of  Oxford,  was  issued  in  1919. 

The  ballad  is  correct  enough  in  dates  and  places,  but  misrepresents 
Raleigh's  words  and  actions  on  the  scaffold.  For  this  misrepresentation, 
censorship  of  the  press  rather  than  personal  animosity  of  the  author  is,  no 
doubt,  responsible.  For  although  in  1601  Raleigh's  supposed  responsibility 
for  the  execution  of  the  Earl  of  Essex  aroused  much  hostile  feeling  against 
him,  by  161 8  this  feeling  had  largely  changed  to  sympathy  for  his  own 
misfortunes.  No  ballads  on  Raleigh  were  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Register 
for  1618,  but  many  were  in  fact  printed.  On  November  21,  1618,  John 
Chamberlain  wrote:  "We  are  so  full  still  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  that 
almost  every  day  brings  forth  somewhat  in  this  kind,  besides  divers  ballets, 
wherof  some  are  called  in,  and  the  rest  such  poore  stuffe  as  are  not 
worth  the  overlooking"  {Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  161 1— 18, 
p.  597;  C.  H.  Firth,  Royal  Historical  Society  Transactions,  3rd  Series, 
V,  40).  Of  this  "poore  stuffe"  the  Pepysian  ballad  is  the  sole  surviving 
printed  specimen.  Years  later  (in  1644)  appeared  a  prose  and  verse  pam- 
phlet called  To  day  a  man.  To  morrow  none:  Or,  Sir  Walter  Rawleighs 
Farewell  to  his  Lady,  The  night  before  hee  was  beheaded:  Together  with  his 
advice  concerning  HER,  and  her  SONNE  (reprinted  in  Charles  Hindley's 
Old  Book  Collector's  Miscellany,  vol.  iii). 

For  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  174. 

^ir  Salter  i^auleigfj  \^\&  lamentation : 

OTfjo  toag  tieljealieb  in  tfje  olti  Wallace  at  Wit^X= 

minsiter  tfje  29.  of  (f^ctober.  1618. 

"To  the  tune  of  Welladay. 

I     /^~^Ourteous  kind  Gallants  all, 
V^    pittie  me,  pittie  me, 
My  time  is  now  but  small, 
here  to  continue: 



Thousands  of  people  stay, 
To  see  my  dying  day, 
Sing  I  then  welladay, 
wofully  mourning. 

2  Once  in  a  gallant  sort 

liued  I,  liued  I, 
Belou'd  in  Englands  court 

graced  with  honours: 
Sir  Walter  Rauleighs^  name 
Had  then  a  noble  fame : 
Though  turned  now  to  shame 

through  my  misdoing. 

3  In  youth  I  was  too  free 

of  my  will,  of  my  will. 
Which  now  deceiueth  me 

of  my  best  fortunes: 
All  that  same  gallant  traine 
Which  I  did  then  maintaine. 
Holds  me  now  in  disdaine 

for  my  vaine  folly. 

4  When  as  Oueene  Elizabeth 

ruld  this  land,  ruld  this  land, 
I  trode  the  honord  path 

of  a  braue  Courtier; 
Offices  I  had  store, 
Heapt  on  me  more  and  more, 
And  my  selfe  I  in  them  bore 

proud  and  commanding. 

5  Gone  are  those  golden  dayes, 

woe  is  me  woe  is  me : 
Offences  many  waies 
brought  vnto  triall, 

1  Text  Ranieighs. 


Shewes  that  disloyaltie 
Done  to  his  Maiestie, 
ludgeth  me  thus  to  dye; 
Lord  for  thy  pitie. 

6  But  the  good  graces  heere 

of  my  King,  of  my  King, 
Shewd  to  me  many  a  yeere 

makes  my  soule  happie 
In  that  his  royall  Grace 
Gaue  me  both  time  and  space 
Repentance  to  embrace: 

now  heauen  be  praised. 

7  Thirteene  yeare  in  the  tower 

haue  I  lien,  haue  I  Hen, 
Before  this  appoynted  houre 

of  my  Hues  ending: 
Likewise  such  Hbertie 
Had  I  vnluckily. 
To  be  sent  gallantly 

out  on  a  voyage. 

8  But  that  same  voyage  then 

prou'd  amis  prou'd  amis. 
Many  good  gentlemen 

lost  their  good  fortunes: 
All  that  with  me  did  goe 
Had  sudden  ouerthrowe 
My  wicked  will  to  shew 

gainst  my  deere  Countrey. 

9  When  I  returned  backe, 

hoping  grace,  hoping  grace, 
The  tower  againe  alacke 

was  my  abiding: 
Where  for  offences  past, 
My  life  againe  was  cast 
Woe  on  woe  followed  fast 

to  my  confusion. 



10  It  pleas'd^  my  royall  King 

thus  to  doe,  thus  to  doe, 
That  his  peeres  should  me  bring 

to  my  Hues  iudgement. 
The  Lieutenant  of  the  tower 
Kept  me  fast  in  his  power, 
Till  the  appointed  houre 

of  my  remoouing. 

1 1  "  I  "O  Westminster  then  was  I 

JL    garded  strong,  garded  strong 
Where  many  a  wandring  eye 

saw  me  conuayed 
Where  I  a  ludgment  had, 
for  my  offences  bad. 
Which  was  to  loose  my  head, 

there  the  next  morning. 

12  So  to  the  Gatehouse  there, 

was  I  sent,  was  I  sent. 
By  knights  and  gentlemen, 

guarding  me  safely. 
Where  all  that  wofull  night. 
My  heart  tooke  no  delight: 
Such  is  the  heauie  plight 

of  a  poore  prisoner. 

13  Calling  then  to  my  mind, 

all  my  ioyes,  all  my  ioyes. 
Whereto  I  was  inclind, 

liuing  in  pleasures: 
All  those  dayes  past  and  gon. 
Brings  me  now  care  and  mone,^ 
Being  thus  ouerthrowne, 

by  mine  owne  folly. 

^  Tex^  plea'sd.  ^   Texi  moue. 



14  When  the  sad  morning  came 

I  should  die,  I  should  die: 

0  what  a  fright  of  shame : 
iild  vp  my  bosome: 

My  heart  did  almost  breake, 
when  I  heard  people  speake, 

1  shold  my  ending  make 

as  a  vile  traitor. 

15  I  thought  my  fortunes  hard, 

when  I  sawj  when  I  saw 
In  the  faire  pallace  yard 

a  scaffold  prepared: 
My  loathed  life  to  end: 
On  which  I  did  ascend, 
Hauing  at  all  no  friend 

there  to  grant  mercy. 

16  Kneeling  downe  on  my  knee, 

willingly,  willingly. 
Prayed  for  his  Maiestie^ 

long  to  continue: 
And  for  his  Nobles  all,^ 
With  subiects  great  and  small, 
Let  this  my  wofuU  fall 

be  a  fit  warning. 

17  And  you  that  hither  come 

thus  to  see,  thus  to  see 
My  most  vnhappy  doome : 

pittie  my  ending. 
A  Christian  true  I  die: 
Papistrie  I  defie, 
Nor  neuer  Atheist  I 

as  is  reported. 

^   Text  Maiustie,  2  Text  has  a  period. 



1 8  You  Lords  &  knights  also 

in  this  place,  in  this  place 
Some  gentle  loue  bestow 

pity  my  falling: 
As  I  rose  suddenly 
Vp  to  great  dignitie, 
So  I  deseruedly 

die  for  my  folly. 

19  Farewell  my  louing  wife 

woe  is  me,  woe  is  me: 
Mournefull  wil  bee  thy  life. 

Left  a  sad  widdow. 
Farewell  my  children  sweet, 
We  neuer  more  shall  meet 
Till  we  each  other  greet, 

blessed  in  heauen. 

20  With  this  my  dying  knell 

willingly,  willingly. 
Bid  I  the  world  farewell 

full  of  vaine  shadowes 
All  her  deluding  showes 
brings  my  heart  naught  but  woes 
Who  rightly  feeles  and  knowes, 

all  her  deceiuings. 

2 1  Thus  with  my  dying  breath 

doe  I  kis,  doe  I  kis, 
This  axe  that  for  my  death 

here  is  prouided: 
May  I  feele  little  paine, 
when  as  it  cuts  in  twaine, 
what  my  life  must  sustaine, 

all  her  deceiuings. 

22  My  head  on  block  is  laid. 

And  my  last  part  is  plaid: 
Fortune  hath  me  betraid, 
sweet  lesus  grant  mercy. 



Thou  that  mv  headsman  art, 
when  thou  list,  when  thou  list, 
Without  feare  doe  thy  part 
I  am  prepared : 

23    Thus  here  my  end  I  take 

farewel  world,  farewel  world, 

And  my  last  will  I  make, 
climing  to  heauen: 

For  this  my  oftence, 

I  die  with  true  penitence, 

lesus  receiue  me  hence: 
farewell  sweet  England. 

London  Printed  for  Philip  Birch  and  are  to  be  sold  at 
his  shop  at  the  Guyld-hall. 



Damnable  practises 

Pepys,  I,  132,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  five  columns.  The  left  margin  is 
mutilated,  so  that  missing  letters  and  words  in  the  first  column  (stanzas 
1-5)  are  restored  within  square  brackets. 

The  book  referred  to  at  the  end  of  the  ballad  is  The  Wonderful  discoverie 
of  the  Witchcrafts  of  Margaret  and  Phillippa  Flower,  1619,  of  which  a 
reprint  was  issued  in  1838  (British  Museum,  C.  27.  b.  3  5  and  8630.  g.  16). 
Similar  books  are  The  Witches  Of  Northampton-S hire .  .  .  Who  were  all 
executed  at  Northampton  the  22.  of  luly  last.  16 12  (Bodleian,  Malone  709) 
and  Thomas  Potts's  The  Wonderfvll  Discoverie  Of  Witches  in  The  Covn-tie 
of  Lan-caster  (Bodleian,  Wood  B  18(2);  Somers'  Tracts,  1810,  iii,  95  IF.). 
The  nobleman  of  the  ballad  was  Francis  Manners,  sixth  Earl  of  Rutland. 
His  two  sons  died  in  infancy,  supposedly  from  witchcraft,  as  the  ballad 
describes;  but  his  daughter  Catherine  survived  to  marry  George  Villiers, 
Duke  of  Buckingham.  The  inscription  on  the  monument  of  the  Earl  of 
Rutland  at  Bottesford,  Leicestershire  (which  is  given  in  full  in  Nichols's 
History  and  Antiquities  of  the  County  of  Leicester,  n,  102;  cf.  William 
Hone's  Every-Day  Book,  1889,  11,  185-187)  mentions  the  death  of  his 
two  sons  "by  wicked  practice  and  sorcerye";  the  "two  boys  kneel  at  his 
feet  holding  sculls,  and  one  a  rose.  At  the  head  a  daughter  in  a  coronet," 
and  so  forth.    Cf.  Notestein's  History  of  Witchcraft,  pp.  132  ff. 

The  spells  which  the  witches  are  represented  as  making  against  young 
Lord  Ross  are,  of  course,  conventional  in  witchcraft  and  folk-lore  (see,  e.g., 
Jacob  Grimm's  Teutonic  Mythology,  translated  by  J.  S.  Stallybrass,  1888, 
IV,  1629,  and  W.  J.  Thoms,  Anecdotes  and  Traditions,  Camden  Society, 
1 839,  p.  loi);  they  may  even  be  found  practised  by  fairly  modern  heroines 
in  Mr  Thomas  Hardy's  Return  of  the  Native  and  in  D.  G.  Rossetti's  Sister 
Helen.  The  apparent  judgment  of  God  that  caused  Joan  Flower's  death 
could  not  do  otherwise  than  convince  Jacobeans  of  the  truth  of  the  charges 
made  against  her.  Dozens  of  similar  cases  are  vouched  for  by  historians  as 
well  as  by  balladists.  A  somewhat  remarkable  judgment  is  chronicled  in 
The  Weekly  Intelligencer  for  January  9,  1655  : 

One  Pilson,  a  Bum  BaylifF  in  Oldstreet  came  to  arrest  a  Gentleman,  who 
being  secure  in  his  Chamber,  where  the  BaylifF  could  not  arrest  him,  the  BaylifF 
swore  to  him  that  if  he  would  come  to  him,  he  would  not  arrest  him,  who 
opened  the  door,  (yet  the  BaylifF  contrary  to  his  Oath)  did  arrest  him,  and  was 
presently  by  the  hand  of  God  struck  dumb  and  stil  continues,  and  cannot 
speak  a  word. 

For  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  196. 



JBamnable  ^ractisieg  01  tfjrec  HincolnsitireOTitcfjei, 
Joane  Flower^  anb  \^tx  tttio  JBaugfjters!,  Margret 
anb  Phillip  Flower^  againjit  Henry  Horb  i^'^j-j^', 
tDitJj  otijers!  tfje  Cfjilbren  of  tfje  3^igf)t  ||onourable 
tl)c  Carle  of  i^utlanb,  at  Peauer^  Cagtle,  tofjo  for  tfje 
stame  toere  cxecutcb  at  Himolne  tfje  U.  [of]^  March 


To  the  tune  oi  the  Ladies  fall. 


OF  damned  deeds,  and  deadly  dole, 
I  make  my  mournfull  song, 
By  Witches  done  in  Lin  coin  e-shire^ 

where  they  haue  liued  long: 
And  practisd  many  a  wicked  deed, 

within  that  Country  there, 
Which  fills  my  brest  and  bosome  full, 
of  sobs,  and  trembling  feare. 

^  I.e.  Belvoir. 

2  Torn  off? 



[FJine  Beauer  Castle  is  a  place, 

that  welcome  giues  to  all, 
[B]y  which  the  Earle  of  Rutland  gaines 

the  loues  of  great  and  small : 
[His]  Countesse  of  like  friendlinesse, 

[djoth  beare  as  free  a  mind: 
[And]  so  from  them  both  rich  and  poore, 

[do]  helps  and  succour  find. 

[Amo]ngst  the  rest  were  Witches  three, 

[th]at  to  this  Castle  came, 
[Call'd]  Margaret  and  Phillip  Flower^ 

[ol]d  loane  their  Mothers  name: 
[Wh]ich  Women  dayly  found  reliefe, 

[an]d  were  contented  well: 
[And]  at  the  last  this  Margret  was, 

[invit]ed  there  to  dwell. 

[She  to]oke  vnto  such  houshold  charge, 

[as]  vnto  her  belongd, 
[Yet  s]he  possest  with  fraud  and  guile, 

[her]  place  and  office  wrongd; 
[She  s]ecretly  purloyned  things 

[vnt]o  her  mother  home: 
[And  at]  vnlawfull  howers  from  thence, 

[wou]ld  nightly  goe  and  com. 

[And  wh]en  the  Earle  &  Countesse  heard, 

[and  all  h]er  dealings  knew, 
[They  grie]ued  much  that  she  should  proue, 

[vnto  them]  so  vntrue. 
And  so  discharg'd  her  of  the  house, 

therein  to  come  no  more: 
For  of  heer  lewd  and  filching  prankes, 

of  proofes  there  were  some  store. 

And  likewise  that  her  Mother  was, 

a  woman  full  of  wrath, 
A  swearing  and  blaspheming  wretch, 

forespeaking  sodaine  death: 



And  how  that  neighbours  in  her  lookes, 

maHtious  signes  did  see: 
And  some  affirm'd  she  dealt  with  Sprits, 

and  so  a  Witch  might  be. 

7  And  that  her  Sister  Phillip  was 

well  knowne  a  Strumpet  lewd, 
And  how  she  had  a  young  mans  loue, 

bewitched  and  subdued. 
Which  made  the  young  man  often  say, 

he  had  no  power  to  leaue 
Her  curst  inticing  company, 

that  did  him  so  deceaue. 

8  When  to  the  Earle  and  Countesse  thus, 

these  iust  complaints  were  made. 
Their  hearts  began  to  breed  dislike, 

and  greatly  grew  affraid  : 
Commanding  that  she  neuer  should, 

returne  vnto  their  sight, 
Nor  back  into  the  Castle  come, 

but  be  excluded  quite. 

9  Whereat  the  old  malitious  feend, 

with  these  her  darlings  thought: 
The  Earle  and  Countesse  them  disgrac't, 

and  their  discredits  wrought: 
In  turning  thus  despightfully, 

her  daughter  out  of  dores. 
For  which  reuengement  in  her  mind 

she  many  a  mischiefe  stores. 

lo    Heereat  the  Diuell  made  entraunce  in, 

his  Kingdome  to  inlarge. 
And  puts  his  executing  wrath, 

vnto  these  womens  charge: 
Not  caring  whom  it  lighted  on, 

the  Innocent  or  no. 
And  offered  them  his  diligence, 

to  flye,  to  run,  and  goe. 

99  G2 


1 1  And  to  attend  in  pretty  formes, 

of  Dog,  of  Cat,  or  Rat, 
To  which  they  freely  gaue  consent, 

and  much  reioyc't  thereat: 
And  as  it  seemd  they  sould  their  soules, 

for  seruice  of  such  Spirits, 
And  sealing  it  with  drops  of  blood, 

damnation  so  inherits. 

12  These  Women  thus  being  Diuels  growne 

most  cunning  in  their  Arts: 
With  charmes  and  with  inchanting  spells 

they  plaid  most  damned  parts : 
They  did  forespeake,  and  Cattle  kild, 

that  neighbours  could  not  thriue. 
And  oftentimes  their  Children  young, 

of  life  they  would  depriue. 

1 3  At  length  the  Countesse  and  her  Lord, 

to  fits  of  sicknesse  grew: 
The  which  they  deemd  the  hand  of  God, 

and  their  corrections  due: 
Which  crosses  patiently  they  bore, 

misdoubting  no  such  deeds. 
As  from  these  wicked  Witches  heere, 

malitiously  proceeds. 

14  Yet  so  their  mallice  more  increast, 

that  mischiefe  set  in  foote. 
To  blast  the  branches  of  that  house, 

and  vndermine  the  roote: 
Their  eldest  sonne  Henry  Lord  Rosse^ 

possest  with  sicknesse  strange. 
Did  lingring,  lye  tormented  long, 

till  death  his  life  did  change. 

15  Their  second  sonne  Lord  Francis  next, 

felt  like  continuing  woe: 



Both  day  and  night  in  grieuous  sort, 
yet  none  the  cause  did  know: 

And  then  the  Lady  Katherin^ 
into  such  torments  fell : 

By  these  their  deuilish  practises, 
as  grieues  my  heart  to  tell. 

tE^e  siecontr  ^art  ^o  tfje  game  tune. 

1 6  A,/^Et  did  this  noble  minded  Earle, 

J-      so  patiently  it  beare: 
As  if  his  childrens  punishments, 

right  natures  troubles  were: 
Suspecting  little,  that  such  meanes, 

against  them  should  be  wrought, 
Untill  it  pleas'd  the  Lord  to  haue 

to  light  these  mischiefes  brought. 

1 7  For  greatly  here  the  hand  of  God, 

did  worke  in  iustice  cause: 
When  he  for  these  their  practises 

them  all  in  question  drawes. 
And  so  before  the  Magistrates, 

when  as  the  yongest  came, 
Who  being  guilty  of  the  fact 

confest  and  tould  the  same. 

1 8  How  that  her  mother  and  her  selfe, 

and  sister  gaue  consent: 
To  giue  the  Countesse  and  her  Lord, 

occasions  to  repent 
That  ere  they  turnd  her  out  of  dores, 

in  such  a  vile  disgrace: 
For  which,  or  them  or  theirs  should  be, 

brought  into  heauy  case. 

19  And  how  her  sister  found  a  time. 

Lord  Rosses  gloue  to  take: 



Who  gaue  it  to  her  mothers  hand 
consuming  spels  to  make. 

The  which  she  prickt  all  full  of  holes, 
and  layd  it  deepe  in  ground: 

Whereas  it  rotted,  so  should  he, 
be  quite  away  consum'd. 

20  All  which  her  elder  sister  did, 

acknowledge  to  be  true : 
And  how  that  she  in  boyling  blood, 

did  oft  the  same  imbrew. 
And  hereupon  the  yong  Lord  Rosse^ 

such  torments  did  abide: 
That  strangely  he  consum'd  away, 

vntill  the  houre  he  died. 

2 1  And  likewise  she  confest  how  they, 

together  all  agreed: 
Against  the  children  of  this  Earle, 

to  practise  and  proceed. 
Not  leauing  them  a  child  aliue, 

and  neuer  to  haue  more : 
If  witchcraft  so  could  doe,  because, 

they  turnd  them  out  of  dore. 

22  The  mother  as  the  daughters  told, 

could  hardly  this  deny: 
For  which  they  were  attached  all, 

by  Justice  speedily. 
And  vnto  Lincolne  Citty  borne, 

therein  to  lye  in  layle : 
Vntill  the  ludging  Sizes  came, 

that  death  might  be  their  bayle. 

23  But  there  this  hatefull  mother  witch, 

these  speeches  did  recall: 
And  said  that  in  Lord  Rosses  death, 
she  had  no  hand  at  all. 



Whereon  she  bread  and  butter  tooke, 

God  let  this  same  (quoth  she) 
If  I  be  guilty  of  his  death, 

passe  neuer  thorough  me. 

24  So  mumbling  it  within  her  mouth, 

she  neuer  spake  more  words: 
But  fell  downe  dead,  a  iudgment  iust, 

and  wonder  of  the  Lords. 
Her  Daughters  two  their  tryalls  had, 

of  which  being  guilty  found, 
They  dyed  in  shame,  by  strangling  twist, 

and  layd  by  shame  in  ground. 

25  Haue  mercy  Heauen,  on  sinners  all, 

and  grant  that  neuer  like 
Be  in  this  Nation  knowne  or  done, 

but  Lord  in  vengeance  strike: 
Or  else  conuert  their  wicked  Hues 

which  in  bad  wayes  are  spent: 
The  feares  of  God  and  loue  of  heauen, 

such  courses  will  preuent. 


There  is  a  booke  printed  of  these  Witches^  wherein  you 
shall  know  all  their  examinations  and  confessions  at  large:  As 
also  the  wicked  practise  of  three  other  most  Notorious  Witches 
in  Leceister-j^/Vd'  with  all  their  examinations  and  confessions. 

Printed  by  G.  Eld  for  lohn  Barnes,  dwelling  in  the 

long  Walke  neere  Christ-Church. 




Murther  unmasked 

Pepys,  I,  1 08,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Barnevile  (Johan  Van  Olden barneveldt,  i  547-1619)  was  arrested  by 
order  of  Prince  Maurice  of  Nassau  on  August  18,  161 8,  arraigned  for 
treason  on  February  20  following,  sentenced  to  death,  and  executed  at  the 
Hague  on  May  13,  1619.  The  accusations  brought  against  him  were,  it 
is  now  agreed,  without  foundation,  while  a  packed  jury  made  his  trial  a 
travesty  of  justice.  "There  was,"  said  John  Lothrop  Motley  {The  Life 
and  Death  of  John  of  Barneveld^  1879,  11,  315),  "no  bill  of  indictment, 
no  arraignment,  no  counsel.  There  were  no  witnesses  and  no  arguments. 
The  court-room  contained,  as  it  were,  only  a  prejudiced  and  partial  jury 
to  pronounce  both  on  law  and  fact  without  a  judge  to  direct  them." 
Perhaps  the  chief  blot  on  the  fame  of  Prince  Maurice  is  his  base  desertion 
of  Barnevile,  when  a  word  could  have  saved  him.  The  Tragedy  of  Sir  John 
Van  Olden  Barnavelt  (A.  H.  BuUen's  Old  Plays,  vol.  11)  was  acted  with 
considerable  success  in  London  in  the  autumn  of  1619.  The  authors 
(Massinger  and  Fletcher.?),  according  to  Mr  Bullen,  "saw  partially  through 
the  mists  of  popular  error  and  prejudice;  they  refused  to  accept  a  caricature 
portrait,  and  proclaimed  in  unmistakeable  accents  the  nobility  of  the  fallen 
Advocate"  (cf.  also  Sir  A.  W.  Ward's  English  Dramatic  Literature,  11, 
716).  The  balladist,  on  the  othef  hand,  had  a  very  prejudiced  view,  and 
distorted  Barnevile's  fall  into  a  warning  against  Arminians  and  Popery. 
The  printer  W.I.  was  probably  William  Jones,  Sr,  who  is  known  to  have 
printed  during  the  years  1601-1626.  For  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular 
Music,  I,  176. 

iilurtfjer  bnmasifeeb, 
P^aeii5j€^31ie^  iiasie  Consipiracie  agamsit  W 
otoneCountrp,tiisfcouereli:  toijo  bnnaturallp  complotteli 
to  siurrcnber  into  tfje  ^rctbufees!  potoer,  tfjege  foure 
Cotonesi,  Vtreicht,  Nimingham,  Bergen-op-zome^  atlb 
Brill:  ^ogetfjer  toitfj  fjis!  fjorrilile  intent  to  murtfjer 
Graue  Maurice^  anlJ  iit^tx^. 

To  the  tune  of  Welladay. 


I      A  LI  you  that  Christians  be 
^t\.    vsefully,  vsefully, 
Consider  now  with  me 

Gods  bounteous  mercie: 
Though  Tru^/i  hath  bin  denide 
And  Papists  it  defide, 
Yet  still  it  doth  abide 

free  from  suppression. 

2    How  many  Treasons  vile 

haue  bin  layd,  haue  bin  layd, 
Gods  pure  Word  to  defile, 
in  euery  Country: 



Yet  still  he  keepes  the  same 
From  blemish,  hurt,  or  blame, 
And  brings  them  all  to  shame 
that  fight  against  it. 

3  What  strange  coplots  haue  bin 

gainst  the  truth,  gainst  y^  truth, 
Throughout  the  world  is  seene^ 

t'  haue  beene  attempted: 
Yet  Christ  his  church  wil  haue. 
And  his  Professors  saue. 
In  spite  of  Pope,  or  slaue 

that  would  confound  it. 

4  Approued  this  may  be 

at  this  time,  at  this  time. 
By  Barnviles  trecherie 

gainst  the  Low-countries: 
Who  with  vain  hopes  mis-led, 
Deuis'd  t'  haue  strucke  all  dead, 
And  to  haue  murthered 

men,  wiues,  and  children. 

5  He  did  consult  with  Hell 

impiously,  impiously, 
Their  frontier  townes  to  sell 

to  Austria's  Duke : 
To  murther  great  and  small. 
With  th'  English  souldiers  all. 
That  slept  within  the  wall 

of  euery  Citie. 

6  Yet  here  he  did  not  stay, 

but  conspir'd,  but  conspir'd 
Graue  Maurice  for  to  slay, 
with  other  Princes. 

^  Text  seeue. 



Thus  midst  this  bloodie  broyle, 
He  would  haue  made  a  spoyle 
Of  his  owne  natiue  soyle, 
without  all  pittie. 

7  This  Tyger  fierce  of  mind, 

mercilesse,  mercilesse, 
these  townes  wold  haue  resignd 

to  Tyrants  power: 
Who  would  haue  banisht  there 
The  Gospel  shining  cleare, 
And  in  its  stead  vpreare 

trash  and  Traditions. 

8  But  this  discouer'd  was 

wondrously,  wondrously : 
And  nothing  brought  to  passe 

what  he  intended: 
For  God  did  from  the  skie, 
Cast  downe  his  watchfull  eye, 
His  treasons  to  descrie, 

and  crosse  his  purpose. 

9  XT  Ow  are  his  Treasons  knowne 
1^  to  his  shame,  to  his  shame: 
And  to  all  Statesmen  showne, 

for  their  example: 
That  God  pursues  his  foes, 
With  heauie  ouerthrowes, 
Who  doe  their  Hate  disclose 

gainst  Gospellizing. 

lo   What  sauage  Monster  would 

thus  haue  slain,  thus  haue  slain 
His  friends;  and  Country  sold 
for  filthy  lucre : 



Outmatcht  this  Deed  cannot, 
Except  with  Powder-plot, 
Which  ne're  will  be  forgot 
till  the  last  Judgement. 

1 1  Of  grace  he  had  no  touch 

in  his  heart,  in  his  heart, 
But  still  did  fauour  much 

th*  Arminian  Faction: 
And  did  his  God  forsake, 
Which  did  him  ouertake. 
And  drencht  him  in  the  Lake 

of  deepe  destruction. 

12  His  Secretary  then 

seeing  well,  seeing  well 
Their  damned  plots  made  plain 

to  both  their  ruines : 
Himselfe  kil'd  in  the  night, 
With  knife  made  sharpe  &  bright 
So  gaue  the  diuell  his  right 

by  his  despayring. 

1 3  You  Politians  all, 

carefully,  carefully, 
Be  warn'd^  by  Barnviles  fall 

midst  his  fowle  actions : 
See  you  no  mischiefes  weaue. 
That  will  your  selues  deceiue, 
And  soules  of  blisse  bereaue 

past  all  redemption. 

14  And  let  each  English  heart 

speedily,  speedily. 
From  Poperie  depart 
as  from  fell  poyson. 

1  Text  war'nd. 


May  he  his  birthday  rue, 
That  striues  for  to  subdue 
The  Gospell  pure  and  true 
in  this  our  Nation. 

15  God  guide  our  gracious  King 

peacefully,  peacefully : 
And  at  the  last  him  bring 

to  ioyes  eternall; 
Where  he  amongst  the  best 
Of  Saints  and  Angels  blest. 
May  Hue  in  ioy  and  rest 

time  without  ending. 

16  So  blesse  our  vertuous  Oueen 

with  this  gift,  with  this  gift: 
That  still  her  Fruit  be  seene 

mongst  vs  to  flourish: 
As  long  as  Cedars  bud, 
And  streames  glide  from  the  flood, 
So  long  her  royall  Blood 

here  sway  the  Scepter. 

1 7  And  powre  on  vs  thy  Grace 

plenteously,  plenteously, 
To  mourne  while  we  haue  space 

for  sinnes  committed: 
That  when  Death  vs  doth  take 
And  we  this  world  forsake. 
We  good  account  may  make 

at  our  last  ending. 

Printed  by  W.I. 



A  prophecy  of  the  judgment  day 

Pepys,  I,  36,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  five  columns.  The  margin  of  the 
first  column  is  badly  mutilated:  missing  letters  have  here  been  supplied  in 
square  brackets. 

This  ballad  vi^as  printed  about  1620,  or  a  year  or  so  earlier,  presumably 
following  a  tract  translated  from  the  French.  I  have  seen  no  such  tract,  but 
observe  that  in  the  diary  of  Richard  Shanne,  of  Yorkshire  (Additional  MS. 
38,599,  fol.  58^),  an  entry  is  made  of  "A  prophesie  Found  Vnder  the 
ffoundation  of  A  Church,  didicated  to  the  name  of  St  Dinnis  in  Paris,  in 
ffrance  written  in  the  Hebrew  tongue,  in  Brasse,  Inclosed  in  A  tombe  of 
Marble.  Found  An.  16 17."  Shanne  then  copied  ten  prophecies  for  the 
years  1621-1630,  which  correspond  almost  word  for  word  with  those 
given  at  the  end  of  the  ballad.  There  is  a  similar  entry  in  the  Diary  of 
Walter  Tonge  for  the  year  1620  (ed.  George  Roberts,  Camden  Society, 
p.  38).  The  tune  of  The  Lady's  Fall  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music, 
I,  196. 

^  $ropi)es;te  of  tf)e  3)ubstnent  Bap. 

iSeins  latelp  founb  in  ^aint  3Bcnis;  Cturclj  in  Jfrance, 

anb  tDtappeb  in  Eeabe  tn  tf)e  forme  of  an  i|eart. 

To  the  txine  of  tAe  Ladyes  fall. 

I    [The  w]onders  of  the  Lord  are  great, 

[as]  daylie  may  be  scene, 
[In  FJier,  Water,  Ayre,  and  Earth, 

[wjhich  hath  full  often  beene, 
[But  no  examjple  doe  we  take, 

[our  wicked]  courses  runne, 
[And  in  our]  age  more  sinne  commit, 

[than  we]  were  new  begun. 

1 10 


2  [Transgressions]  daylie  doe  arise, 

[as  wjhoredome,  Theft,  and  Pride: 
[God's  minijsters  we  doe  reiect, 

[whose  wjordes  should  be  our  guide. 
[Nor  is]  there  any  yeare  as  yet, 

[more  wonder]full  then  now: 
[That  whea]t,  and  Corne,  &  all  thinges  else, 

[the  heave]  nly  power  did  low. 

3  [And  for  our]  great  vnthankefulnesse, 

[from  our]  Gods  powerful!  hand: 
[There  come]  great  store  of  Floods,  and  Raine, 

[upon  this]  fruitefull  Land; 
[And  so  I]  thinke  good  people  then, 

[that  He]  will  send  a  scourge: 
[Because  that  fjor  our  wickednesse, 

[and  s]innes,  his  wrath  doth  vrge.  . 

4  [And  mar]ke  vpon  the  Latter  day, 

[which  d]raweth  to  an  end: 
[See  how  tha]t  thou  vpon  this  world, 

[in  smal]lest  thoughtes  depend. 
[We  have]  not  alwayes  heere  to  Hue, 

[bethi]nke  that  thou  must  die: 
[Time]  being  come,  you  must  away, 

[in  the  twink]ling  of  an  eye. 

5  [But  for]  thy  Gods  owne  promise  made, 

[thou  could  n]ot  long  endure: 
[For  what]  he  sayd,  is  truth  it  selfe; 

[there's]  nothing  else,  so  sure. 
For  he  hath  P[romised  th]at  he  will, 

our  time  more  [happy  m]ake: 
And  that  heele  Cut  [down  Princes],^ 

euen  for  his  Elects  [sake.] 

6  As  by  a  Prophesie  in  France^ 

the  which  was  lately  found: 

1  Text  apparently  Cut.  .  .eeces. 
I  I  I 


In  Parchment  writ,  and  wrapt  in  Lead, 

most  close  vnto  the  ground. 
Within  a  Churches  wall,  which  then, 

was  pulled  downe  to  mend: 
Which  shew'd  eare  thirteene  yeeres  were  past, 

the  world  should  come  to  end. 

The  first  Prophesie  for  the  ye  ere  ^  1620.^ 

7  The  wordes  were  these,  which  then  were  found  : 

within  this  sacred  place, 
Great  Warres  shalbe  in  Italy^ 

within  this  little  space.  ' 

Which  is  no  doubt  Gods  handy  worke, 

to  Plague  them  for  their  pride: 
Which  doth  with  foule  Idolatry, 

his  holy  name  deride. 

The  Second  Prophesie  for  the  yeere  1622. 

8  There  shall  not  be  a  shepheard  left, 

to  feed  the  silly  Flocke : 
Then  let  vs  pray  that  in  our  hearts, 

he  Graft  a  surer  stocke; 
And  that  we  may  not  be  bereft, 

of  Pasters,  vs  to  teach : 
But  that  amongst  vs  he  will  send,  | 

good  men  his  word  to  Preach.  ' 

The  third  Prophesie  for  the  yeere  1623. 

9  The  wrath  of  God  shall  shew  it  selfe, 

throughout  the  world  so  wide: 
Which  he  will  powre  vpon  vs  all, 

for  our  incessant  Pride, 
Then  let  vs  pray  with  full  consent, 

that  he  may  hold  his  hand : 
And  that  he  will  not  wreake  his  wrath, 

vpon  our  sinfull  Land. 
^  Read  1 62 1? 



The  fourth  Prophesie  for  the  yeere  1624. 

10  God  shall  be  knowne  but  of  a  few, 

which  is  a  grieuous  thing: 
That  wee  so  little  should  regard, 

our  God,  the  heauenly  King. 
Who  sent  his  Sonne  to  saue  our  Soules, 

from  Sathan,  Death,  and  Hell: 
And  that  we  should  in  heauenly  blisse, 

with  him  for  euer  dwell. 

The  fifth  Prophesie  for  the  yeere  1625. 

11  A  great  man  shall  arise,  they  say, 

which  is  a  thing  conceald: 
And  vnto  few  but  Godly  men, 

the  same  shall  be  reueald. 
Then  let  vs  pray  which  little  know, 

that  wee  may  ready  bee: 
For  him  the  which  in  glory  sits, 

from  all  eternite. 

The  sixth  Prophesie  for  the  yeere  1626. 

1 2  The  fourt  part  of  the  Earth  shall  burne, 

the  Sunne  shall  darkned  bee, 
The  Moone  shall  powre  foorth  streames  of  blood, 

which  fearefully  will  see, 
Unto  the  Soules  which  ill  haue  done: 

but  ioyfull  to  the  rest : 
The  bad  twill  terryfie  to  death, 

and  greatly  ioy  the  rest. 

Cte  ^econb  part  of  tfje  ^ropfjesiie.  tE^o  tfje  game  tune. 

The  seuenth  Prophesie  for  the  yeere  1628. 

13  AN  vniuersall  Earthquake  shall 
-L^  vpon  this  Globe  remaine: 

The  earth  shall  seeme  to  mooue  and  stir, 
so  shall  the  Oceans  maine: 

R.p.G.  113  H 


Then  if  his  breath  can  shake  the  same, 

which  is  the  God  of  might. 
How  could  he  plague  vs  if  he  pleas'd 

but  with  his  force  to  smite. 

The  eight  Prophesie  for  the  yeere  1629. 

14  The  Infidels  true  God  shall  know, 

and  Trinity  professe: 
God  graunt  which  wee  that  Christians  are, 

may  neuer  doe  the  lesse: 
If  those  which  doe  not  feare  the  Lord, 

shall  truest  Christians  turne. 
Then  wee  which  know  the  liuing  God, 

in  Hels  hot  flame  shall  burne. 

The  ninth  Prophesie  for  the  yeere  1630. 

1 5  The  Riuers  shalbe  dryed  vp, 

one  Shepheard  shall  remaine, 
And  but  one  Shepefold  shall  be  left, 

Gods  glory  to  maintaine. 
Which  is  the  latter  day  of  all : 

where  but  one  God  shall  raigne, 
Then  let  vs  labour  day  and  night : 

his  fauour  to  obtaine.^ 

1 6  Great  God  which  sit'st  in  heauely  Throane 

graunt  that  we  sinners  may, 
Haue  place  in  thy  eternall  Court, 

where  holy  Saints  doe  pray. 
Still  holy,  holy  Lord  of  Lords 

and  Spirit  full  of  grace, 
God  graunt  that  in  thy  Kingdome  wee, 

may  haue  a  resting  place. 


1  Text  has  a  comma. 




Jiefjolb  3  come  s!f)ortlp :  blesfsfeli  in  fjee  tfjat  feeepctf) 
tfie  toortrjf  of  tije  ^ropfjcsfie. 

Reuelation.  22.  7. 

^/^^^(j  ^^r^  vnder  written^  are  the  true  words  of  the  Pro- 
phesie  of  the  last  ludgementy  which  were  translated  into 
English,  out  of  the  Hebrue  copy,  being  found  vnder  Saint 
Denis  Church  in  the  great  City  of  Paris  in  France,  and  was 
wrapped  in  Lead  in  the  forme  of  a  Heart.  1616.  Which 
copy  hath  been  sent  to  diuers  great  Princes  of  Christendome 
from  France. 

1620.1  There  shall  be  great  warres  through  Italy. 

1622.  There  shall  not  be  a   Shepheard  to  feed  the 


1623.  The  wrath  of  God  shall  shew  it  selfe  through 

the  whole  World. 

1624.  God  shall  be  knowne  but  of  a  few. 

1625.  A  Great  Man  shall  arise. 

1626.  Affrica  shall  burne:  the  Sunne  shall  be  darkned, 

&c.   Math.  24.  29.    And  the  Moone  shall  be 
bluddy.   Reue.  6.  12. 

1628.  There  shall  be  an  vniuersall  Earthquake. 

1629.  Infidels  shall  know  the  Trinity  and  vnitie  of  the 


1630.  The  Ryuers  shall  be  dryed  vp,  and  there  shall 

be  but  one  Shepheard,  and  one  Sheepefolde. 


At  London  Printed  for  I.W. 
1  Read  1621  ? 


H  Z 



T'he  pedlar  opening  his  pack 

Pepys,  I,  238,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  five  columns. 

A  highly  interesting  picture  of  the  cosmetics,  gew-gaws,  and  trinkets 
that  formed  the  mysteries  of  a  seventeenth-century  woman's  toilet  is  given 
in  this  satirical  song.  The  pack  itself  was  a  chest  with  drawers  and  com- 
partments for  the  various  articles  here  enumerated.  Strangely  enough,  the 
pedlar  does  not  mention  ballads — something  that  every  self-respecting 
member  of  his  trade  invariably  carried.  A  similar  ballad,  written  some 
twenty-five  years  later,  is  "The  New  Exchange"  in  Merry  Drollery,  1661 
(ed.  J.  W.  Ebsworth,  pp.  134-138). 

The  stanza-form  is  unusual  but  attractive.  I  have  not  met  with  the  tune 
elsewhere.  The  printer  was  E[dward]  A[llde],  whose  publications  appeared 
during  i  584-1628.  The  date  may  be  assumed  to  be  1620,  but  was  prob- 
ably much  earlier. 

^fte  ^ebler  opening  of  \^\&  ^acfee, 

ilTo  fenoto  of  i^apbes!  tofjat  i\&  tfjep  lacfec. 

To  the  tune  of,  Last  Christmas  'twas  my  chanced 

1  A  ^7  Ho  is  it  will  repaire, 

VV       or  come  and  see  my  packet: 
Where  there's  store  of  Ware, 
if  any  of  you  lacke  it, 
view  the  Fayre. 

2  Faire  Maydens  come  and  see, 

if  heere  be  ought  will  please  you : 
And  if  we  can  agree, 

He  giue  you  iust  your  due, 
or  nere  trust  me. 

1  Comma  in  the  text. 


3  And  if  that  you  do  please 

to  see  my  Fardle  open, 
My  burden  for  to  ease, 

I  hope  that  we  shall  Copen 
then  straight  waies. 

4  From  Turky^  France  and  Spaine^ 

doe  come  my  cheifest  Treasure, 
Which  doth  cost  much  paine, 
I  sell  by  waight  and  measure, 
for  small  gaine. 

5  Farre-fetcht  Indian  ware, 

and  China  hard  to  enter: 
Which  to  get  is  rare, 

costs  many  Hues  to  venter, 
we  nere  care. 

6  From  Venice  Citie  comes 

great  store  of  rare  Complection, 
From  westerne  lies  your  Gummes 
to  keep  Teeth  from  infection, 
and  from  Rhewmes. 

7  Heere  is  a  water  rare, 

will  make  a  wench  that's  fiftie. 
For  to  looke  more  fayre 

then  one  that  wants  of  twenty, 
stil'd  from  the  Ayre. 

8  A  Perriwig  to  weare, 

or  Couer  for  bare  places: 
If  you  haue  lost  your  heare, 
full  many  one  it  graces : 
tis  not  deare. 

9  Heeres  Poking  stickes  of  Steele, 

and  Christall  Looking  Glasses: 
Here  globes  that  round  will  wheele 
to  see  each  one  that  passes, 
Dildo  Dill. 




10  Pomado  for  your  Lips, 

to  make  them  soft  and  ruddy: 
And  sweet  as  Cipres  chips, 
a  lustre  Hke  a  Ruby 
soone  it  gets. 

1 1  Heres  Bracelets  for  your  arm 

of  Corall,  or  of  Amber: 
A  Powder  that  will  Charme 

or  bring  one  to  your  Chamber, 
tis  no  harme. 

12  A  water  can  restore 

a  Maydenhead  that's  vanisht, 
You'le  say  she  is  no  whoore, 
although  that  it  were  banisht 
long  before. 

1 3  A  paire  of  Bodye[s  feat]^ 

to  make  you  fine  and  slender : 
A  Buske  as  blacke  as  leat, 
to  keepe  your  bellies  vnder 
that  are  great. 

14  And  if  you  please  to  weare, 

a  Bodkin  of  pure  Siluer: 
To  thrust  into  your  hayre, 
it  comforteth  the  Liuer 
without  feare. 

1 5  Rebatoes,  Tyres,  and  Rings, 

Sissers  and  a  Thimble: 
And  many  pretty  thinges, 

to  keepe  your  fingers  nimble, 
weauing  stringes. 

^  Torn. 

®i)[e  ^ec]onl>^  part 

1 6  O  likes  of  any  hew, 

Vv3   and  Spanish  needles  plenty: 
Thred  both  white  and  blew, 

like  me  not  one  'mongst  twenty, 
can  fit  you. 

1 7  Balles  of  Camphyre  made, 

to  keepe  your  face  from  pimples: 
An  Unguent  that's  alayd, 

you  neuer  shall  haue  wrinckles, 
if  a  Mayde. 

1 8  Spunges  for  your  face, 

or  Sope  that  came  from  Turkey: 
Your  fauour  it  will  grace, 
if  that  you  be  not  durty, 
in  no  place. 

19  Rich  imbroydered  Gloues, 

to  draw  vpon  your  white  hand: 
Or  to  giue  your  Loues, 
a  Ruffe  or  falling  band, 
my  pretty  Doues. 

20  Scarfes  that  came  from  Cales^ 

or  points  and  Laces  lacke  you : 
Inckle  made  in  Wales, 

I  finely  can  beknacke  you: 
tell  no  tales. 

2 1  Bone  lace  who  will  buy, 

that  came  from  Flaunders  lately : 
Pray  doe  not  thinke  I  lye, 

but  I  will  serue  you  straightly, 
by  and  by. 

1  Torn. 


22  Pinnes  both  white  and  red, 

of  all  sortes  and  all  sizes; 
Plumbes  and  Ginger  bread, 
my  Wares  of  diuers  prizes, 
Bookes  to  read. 

23  Venice  Glasses  fine, 

were  newly  made  in  London : 
To  drinke  your  Beere  or  Wine, 
come  now  my  Pack's  vndone, 
speake  betime. 

24  Lawne  and  Cambricke  pure, 

as  good  as  e're  was  worne: 
Like  yron  it  will  dure, 
vntill  that  it  be  torne, 
be  you  sure. 

25  Heer's  many  other  thinges, 

as  lewes  trumps,  pipes  &  Babies: 
St.  Martins  Beades  and  Ringes, 
and  other  toyes  for  Ladyes, 
knots  and  stringes. 

26  All  you  that  want  my  Ware, 

approach  vnto  my  Standing: 
Where  I  will  vse  you  faire, 
without  deceit  or  cunning, 
to  a  hayre. 

27  And  as  my  Ware  doth  proue, 

so  let  me  take  your  mony: 
My  pretty  Turtle  Doue, 
that  sweeter  is  then  hony, 
which  is  Loue. 


Printed  at  London  by  E.A. 


T'he  lamenting  lady 

Pepys,  I,  44,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts  (both  of  which  are  here  reproduced), 
five  columns. 

F.  J.  Child  {English  and  Scottish  Popular  Ballads,  ii,  68;  cf.  p.  511) 
thought  that  the  probable  source  of  this  ballad  was  a  sixteenth  century 
ballad  of  Juan  de  Timoneda.  I  have  not  been  able  to  see  Timoneda's 
ballad,  but  in  any  case  the  source  of  "The  Lamenting  Lady"  is  undoubt- 
edly one  of  the  two  early  English  accounts  of  the  story — preferably  Thomas 
Coryate's — given  below. 

Probably  the  first  occurrence  of  the  story  in  English  is  that  in  Edward 
Grimeston's  A  Generall  Historic  of  the  Netherlands,  1608  (pp.  51—52),  a 
work  translated  from  Jean  Francois  Le  Petit's  Grande  Chronique  Ancienne 
et  moderne,  de  Ho  I  I  an  de,  Z^lande,  West  Frise,  etc.  j usque  s  a  la  Jin  de  I' an 
1600  (2  vols.,  Dordrecht,  1601),  where  the  "Lamenting  Lady"  story  is 
printed  in  volume  i,  pp.  229-30.  As  this  French  history  was  published  at 
Dordrecht,  or  Dort,  where  the  marvel  happened,  Grimeston,  Coryate,  and 
the  ballad-writer — none  of  whom  had  visited  that  city — may  readily  be 
pardoned  for  believing  the  astonishing  tale  of  Countess  Marguerite  of 

Grimeston's  version  follows,  and  I  have  indicated  in  foot-notes  every 
important  instance  in  which  his  Latin  diifers  from  that  of  Jean  Francois 
Le  Petit: 

Floris  the  fourth  of  that  name.  .  .was  the  seuenteenth  Earle  of  Holland  and 
Zealand.  .  .and.  .  .had  to  wife  Mathilda,  daughter  to  Henry  duke  of  Lothier 
and  Brabant,  by  whom  he  had.  .  .Marguerite  wife  to  Herman  earle  of  Henne- 
berg, who  had  that  great  number  of  children,  whereof  we  shall  speake  by  and 

We  haue  formerly  said,  that  this  Cont  Floris  had  among  his  other  children, 
one  daughter  called  Mathilde  (some  say  Marguerite)  married  to  Cont  Herman 
of  Henneberg;  William  King  of  the  Romanes  and  Earle  of  Holland  was  her 
brother,  Otto  bishop  of  Vtrecht  her  vncle  by  the  father,  &  Henry  duke  of  Brabant 
her  vncle  by  the  mothers  side,  Alix  Contesse  of  Henault  her  aunt.  Otto  earle  of 
Geldres,  and  Henry  bishop  of  Liege,  her  cousins.  To  describe  the  monstrous 
child-birth  or  deliuerie  of  this  Lady,  you  must  vnderstand,  that  on  a  time  this 
Contesse  of  Henneberg  did  see  a  poore  widow  woman  begging  her  bread  for 
Gods  sake,  hauing  in  eyther  arme  a  child,  both  which  she  had  had  at  one  birth: 
This  poore  woman  crauing  her  almes,  the  Contesse  reiected  her  with  reprochfull 
words:  whereupon  this  poore  woman,  hauing  her  heart  full  of  discontent,  for 
her  bitter  speeches,  lifted  vp  her  eyes  to  heauen,  and  said:  O  great  and  mightie 



God,  I  beseech  thee  for  a  testimonie  of  mine  innocencie,  that  it  will  please  thee 
to  send  vnto  this  Lady  as  many  children  as  there  be  daies  in  the  yeare.  A  while 
after  this  Contesse  was  big  with  child  by  her  husband;  and  for  her  lying  in, 
she  went  into  Holland  to  see  the  Earle  of  Holland  her  nephew,  lodging  in  the 
Abbey  of  religious  women  of  Losdunen:  whereas  she  grew  so  exceeding  great, 
as  the  like  was  neuer  seene.  Her  time  being  come,  the  friday  before  Palme- 
sunday  [i.e.  on  March  29],  in  the  yeare  1276.  she  was  deliuered  of  three  hundred 
sixtie  and  fiue  children,  halfe  sonnes  and  halfe  daughters,  the  odde  one  being 
found  a  Hermaphrodite,  all  complete  and  well  fashioned  with  their  little  mem- 
bers: the  which  were  layed  in  two  basins  and  baptized  by  Guidon,  Suffragan  to 
the  bishop  of  Vtrecht,  who  named  the  sonnes  loAn  and  the  daughters  Elizabeth. 
As  soone  as  they  had  been  baptized,  they  died  all,  and  their  mother  with  them. 
The  two  basins  are  yet  to  be  seene  in  the  said  church  of  Losdunen,  with  their 
Epitaph  both  in  Latine  and  Dutch:  the  Latine  was^  as  followeth: 

Margareta^  Comitis  Hennebergae  vxor,  &  Florentii  Comitis  Hollandiae  & 
2Jcelandiae  filia;  cuius  mater  fuit  Mathilda,-'  filia  Henrici  Ducis  Brabantiae, 
fratrem  quoq;  habuit*  Allemaniae  regem.  Haec  praefata  domina  Margareta, 
Anno  salutis  1276.  ipso  die  Parasceues  hora  nona  ante  meridiem,  peperit 
infantes  viuos  promiscui  sexus  numero  trecentos,  sexaginta  quinque:  qui 
postquam  per  venerabilem  Dom.  Guidonem,  Suffragan*  Episcopi  Traiec- 
tensis,  praesentibus  nonnullis  proceribus  &  magnatibus,  in  peluibus  duabus 
ex  aere,  baptismum  percepissent,  &  masculis  lohannes,  foemellis  vero  Elizabeth 
nomina  imposita  fuissent,  simul  omnes  cum  matre  vno  eodemq;  die  satis 
concesserunt,  in  hoc  Lodunensi  templo^  iacent.  Quod  quidem  accidit  ob 
pauperculam  quandam  foeminam,  quae  ex  uno  partu  gemellos  in  vlnis 
gestabat  pueros:  quam  rem  admirans  ipsa  Comitissa  dicebat,  id  per  vnicum^ 
virum  fieri  non  posse,  ipsamq;  contumeliose  reiecit:  vnde  haec  paupercula 
animo  turbata*  &  perculsa,  prolium  tantum  numerum  ac  multitudinem  ex 
uno  partu  ei®  imprecabatur,  quod  vel  totius  anni  dies  numerentur.^"  Quod 
quidem  praeter  naturae  cursum,  obstupenda  quadam  ratione  ita  factum  est, 
sicut  in  hac  tabula  in  perpetuam  rei  memoriam,  ex  vetustis  turn  manuscriptis, 
quam  typis  excusis  Chronicis,  breuiter  posituw  &  narratum  est.  Deus  ille  ter 
maximus  hac  de  re  suspiciendus,  honorandus,  &  laudibus  extollendus  in 
sempitema  saecula.  Amen. 

And  vnderneath  it  were  these  two  verses: 

En  tibi  monstrosum  &  memorabile  factum. 
Quale  nee  a  mundi  conditione  datum. 

The  account  in  Coryat's  Crudities,  161 1  (1776  reprint,  in,  81-83), 
which  is  probably  the  immediate  source  of  the  ballad,  was  brought  to  my 
attention  by  my  colleague.  Professor  A.  L.  Bouton.  It  runs  as  follows: 

There  is  a  Monument  extant  in  a  certain  Monastery  called  Laudun  neere  the 
famous  vniuersity  of  Leyden  in  Holland,  where  a  certaine  Countesse  called 
Margarite  was  buried,  who  was  the  wife  of  one  Hermannus  Earle  of  Henneberg, 
the  daughter  of  Florentius  the  fourth  of  that  name,  Earle  of  Holland  and  Zeland, 
and  the  sister  of  William  King  of  the  Romanes.  This  Countesse  hapned  to  be 
deliuered  of  three  hundred  sixty  fiue  children  at  one  burden,  about  three  hundred 

1  est.  2  Margareta  Hermani.  ^  Mathildis. 

*  habuit  Guillelmum.  ^  Suffraganeum.         ®  templo  sepulti. 

'  unum.         ^  perturbata.  ^  ipsi.  ^°  numerantur. 



and  fourteene  yeares  since,  euen  iust  as  many  as  there  are  daies  in  the  yeare.  All 
which,  after  they  were  baptized  by  one  Guido  Suffragan  of  Vtrecht,  the  males 
by  the  names  of  lohns,  and  the  females  by  the  names  of  Elizabeths,  died  that 
very  day  that  they  came  into  the  world:  and  were  buried  all  together  in  one 
monument  in  the  Church  of  the  foresaid  Monastery  of  Laudun,  which  is  to 
this  day  shewed  (as  I  haue  heard  many  worthy  trauellers  report  that  were  the 
eie  witnesses  of  the  matter)  with  a  most  memorable  Latine  inscription  vpon  it, 
together  with  two  brasen  basons  wherin  all  those  infants  were  baptized.  This 
strange  history  will  seeme  incredible  (I  suppose)  to  al  readers.  But  it  is  so  abso- 
lutely and  vndoubtedly  true  as  nothing  in  the  world  more.  The  occasion  of 
which  miraculous  and  stupendious  accident  I  will  here  set  downe  (seeing  I  haue 
proceeded  thus  farre  in  the  narration  of  a  thing  I  haue  not  scene)  because  it  may 
confirme  the  stronger  belief  in  the  reader.  It  hapned  that  a  poore  woman  came 
a  begging  to  the  foresaid  Countesse  Margarite,  bearing  a  twinne  of  young  babes 
in  her  armes.  But  the  Countesse  was  so  farre  from  hauing  any  commiseration 
vpon  her,  that  she  rather  scornefuUy  reiected  her,  affirming  that  it  was  not 
possible  shee  should  haue  those  two  children  bv  one  man.  The  poore  soule  being 
much  vexed  in  spirit  through  these  iniurious  words  of  the  Lady,  pronounced 
such  a  bitter  imprecation  vpon  her,  that  she  wished  that  God  would  shew  a 
miracle  vpon  the  Lady,  as  well  for  a  due  reuenge  vpon  her  that  had  so  slandered 
her,  as  for  the  testifying  of  her  vnspotted  honesty  and  chastity;  she  wished,  I 
say,  that  God  would  shew  this  miracle,  that  the  Lady  might  bring  forth  as 
many  children  at  one  burden,  as  there  are  daies  in  the  yeere;  which  indeed  came 
to  passe,  according  as  I  haue  before  mentioned.  For  the  Ladie  in  the  fortieth 
yeare  of  her  age  was  deliuered  of  iust  so  many  vpon  a  Saturday,  about  nine  of  the 
clocke  in  the  morning,  in  the  yeare  of  our  Lord  1276.  The  truth  of  this  most 
portentous  miracle  is  confirmed  not  so  much  by  that  inscription  written  in  a 
certaine  table  vpon  her  tombe,  as  by  sundry  ancient  Chronicles  of  infallible 
certainty,  both  manuscript  and  printed. 

The  story  is  also  referred  to  in  J  certaine  Relation  of  the  Hog-faced 
Gentlewoman  (cf.  No.  79),  1640,  sig.  A  3^  (E.  W.  Ashbee's  Occasional 
Fac-Simile  Reprints,  vol.  11) : 

In  the  Bishopricke  of  Colen  a  woman,  some  thinke  a  Witches  Curse,  some 
otherwise,  brought  forth  into  the  World  at  one  birth  one  [we]  hundred  three- 
score and  five  children:  all  which  though  they  were  of  wondrous  small  stature, 
yet  they  were  borne  with  life,  and  christned,  and  a  monument  remaynes  for 
them  to  this  day,  her  prayer  or  curse  being,  that  shee  might  have  as  many 
children  at  one  birth,  as  there  were  dayes  in  the  yeere. 

A  similar  situation,  so  far  as  concerns  an  insult  offered  to  a  mother  of 
twins,  occurs  in  Marie  de  France's  Le  Fraisne  {Lais,  ed.  R.  Kohler,  p. 
Ixiv  ff.).  Professor  Kittredge  has  given  me  these  additional  references: 
Chevalier  Assigne,  ed.  Gibbs,  verses  29-31,  41-42;  Helyas,  in  W.  J. 
Thoms's  Early  English  Prose  Romances,  2nd  ed.,  iii,  33,  41;  Harris's 
Voyages,  1764,  11,  1019;  Elphinstone  Dayrell,  Folk  Stories  from  Southern 
Nigeria,  19 10,  p.  133;  Journal  of  the  Anthropological  Institute,  xxvii,  480; 
Mary  H.  Kingsley's  Travels  in  West  Africa,  1897,  p.  473;  Baldwin 
Spencer  and  F.  J.  Gillen's  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia,  p.  52; 
Report  on  the  Work  of  the  Horn  Scientific  Expedition,  ed.  Baldwin  Spencer, 
1896,  Pt.  IV,  p.  129.  A  curiously  decayed  form  of  the  story.  Professor 



Kittredge  adds,  is  given  in  Sarah  Hewett's  Nummits  and  Crummits,  Devon- 
shire Customs,  1900,  p.  19,  and  a  better  form  in  Bechstein's  Volkssagen  und 
Legenden  des  Kaiserstaates  Oesterreic/i,  1841,  No.  10,  p.  121,  and  in  Karl 
Reiser's  Sagen,  Gebrduche  und  Sprichwbrter  des  Allgdus,  \,  409-411. 

Possibly  there  is  a  faint  reference  to  the  lamenting  lady  in  King  Lear, 
II,  iv,  54,  where  the  Fool  says:  "Thou  shalt  have  as  many  dolours  for  thy 
daughters  as  thou  canst  tell  in  a  year."  Compare  also  the  remark  of  Robert 
Waring,  in  verses  "To  the  Memory  of  his  deceased  Friend,  Mr  William 
Cartwright,"  prefixed  to  the  165 1  edition  of  Cartwright's  Comedies: 

As  the  Dutch  Lady,  who  at  once  did  bear 
Numbers,  not  Births,  to  date  each  day  i'  th'  year. 
Grew  barren  by  Encrease;  and  after  all, 
None  could  Her,  Mother,  or  them  Children,  call. 
So  whilst  All  write.  None  judge,  we  multiply 
So  many  Poems,  and  no  Poetry. 

Samuel  Pepys  himself  was  one  of  the  Englishmen  who  had  seen  the 
basins  and  the  inscription.  In  his  Diary  for  May  19,  1660,  Pepys 
notes  that  he  went  "by  waggon  to  Lausdune,  where  the  365  children 
were  born.  We  saw  the  hill  where  they  say  the  house  stood  wherein  the 
children  were  born.  The  basins  wherein  the  male  and  female  children 
were  baptized  do  stand  over  a  large  table  that  hangs  upon  a  wall,  with  the 
whole  story  of  the  thing  in  Dutch  and  Latin,  beginning,  'Margarita 
Herman  Comitissa,'  &c.  The  thing  was  done  about  200  years  ago."  See 
further  Notes  and  (Queries,  2nd  S.,  vii,  260. 

For  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  196.  The  date  of  the 
ballad  may  be  assumed  to  be  1620. 

Cije  Hamenting  Habp, 
^to  tor  tfje  torongs!  bone  bp  ijer  to^  a  poore  tooman, 
for  fjauing  ttDO  cfjilbren  at  one  tjurtten,  toas;  tip  tlie 
fjanb  of  (Jlob  mosit  sitrangelp  punisiijeti,  bp  sienbing 
fjer  asi  manp  cljilbren  at  one  birtb,  a£f  tbere  are  baiesi 
in  tbe  peare,  in  remembrance  tobereof,  tbere  is!  noto 
a  monument  builbeb  in  tbe  Cittp  of  Lowdon^  asi  manp 
Cnglisib  nten  noto  lining  in  Lowdon,  can  truelp  tesitifie 
tbe  game  anb  batb  sieene  it. 

To  the  tune  oi  the  Ladies  falL 

^  by  her  to:  text  to  her  by. 



REgard  my  griefe  kinde  Ladies  all, 
my  heart  now  bleeding  dyes, 
And  shewers  of  siluer  pearled  teares 

falls  from  my  weeping  eyes: 
I  once  was  louely,  faire,  and  young, 

by  nature  sweet  and  kinde. 
And  had  those  ioyes  that  might  content 
a  gallant  Ladies  minde. 



But  barren  grew  my  wished  hopes, 

no  children  I  could  haue, 
Which  twixt  my  wedded  Lord  and  me 

much  cause  of  sorrowes  gaue : 
My  tender  body  pure  and  faire, 

and  of  a  princely  frame 
Could  not  abstaine  these  sugred  ioyes 

that  came  by  Cupids  game. 

Yet  beggers  borne  of  low  degree 

such  blessings  did  possesse, 
Which  when  I  saw  my  heart  grew  full 

of  woes  and  heauinesse: 

0  why  should  people  poore  (quoth  I) 
those  happy  ioyes  obtaine 

When  I  that  am  a  Lady  braue 
should  barren  thus  remaine? 

1  feed  on  sweet  delicious  meates, 

and  drinke  of  purest  wine, 
Yet  are  there  homely  bodies  still 

as  faire  and  cleere  as  mine, 
and  haue  more  sweetfac'd  smiling  babes 

then  Ladies  of  degree. 
And  of  as  tender  flesh  and  bloud 

as  can  be  shewed  by  me. 

In  griefe  of  heart  complaining  thus, 

by  chance  a  woman  poore 
With  two  sweet  children  in  her  armes 

came  begging  to  my  doore: 
Poore  pretty  babes  they  smiled  sweete, 

whereat  I  needs  must  know 
If  those  two  smiling  children  were 

the  womans  owne  or  no? 

They  are  (sweet  Madam)  both  (said  she) 
and  both  borne  at  one  birth. 

The  which  are  now  my  chiefest  wealth 
and  blessings  on  the  earth: 



Can  Beggers  haue  what  Ladies  want 

in  anger  I  repli'd, 
And  can  thy  wombe  be  fruitfull  made 

when  mine  is  still  deni'd? 

7  I  goe  attyr'd  in  garments  rich 

bedeck'd  with  burnish'd  gold, 
And  waited  on  with  worldly  pompe, 

and  pleasures  manifold, 
Whilst  thou  in  rags  all  rent  and  torne 

for  thy  reliefe  dost  craue, 
And  with  two  children  blest  at  once, 

when  I  not  one  can  haue. 

8  Thou  art  some  Strumpet^  sure  I  know, 

and  spend'st  thy  dayes  in  shame. 
And  stained  sure  thy  marriage  bed 

with  spots  of  black  defame: 
Else  vnto  these  two  louely  babes 

thou  canst  no  mother  be. 
When  I  that  Hue  in  greatest  grace 

no  such  content  can  see. 

9  A  hundreth  such  like  taunting  tearmes 

I  gaue  this  woman  poore 
Whilst  she  for  pitty  and  reliefe 

stood  begging  at  the  doore: 
Reuiling  her  most  spightfully 

with  harlots  hatefull  name. 
Dissembling  with  a  shamelesse  face 

to  couer  vp  her  shame. 

lo    Her  heart  hereat  with  inward  griefes 
did  feele  such  mortall  paine, 
And  as  it  were  before  my  face 
did  seeme  to  breake  in  twaine: 

^  Text  Strumpt. 


Her  pretty  babes  which  at  her  breasts 

did  sweetly  sucking  lye 
To  see  their  mothers  bitter  moane 

did  sadly  sob  and  crye. 

1 1  Whereat,  halfe  kild  with  woe  alas, 

I  wish  my  wrongs  (quoth  she) 
That  these  my  babes  may  be  reueng'd 

proud  Lady,  vpon  thee: 
And  as  I  am  both  true  and  iust 

vnto  my  marriage  bed 
so  let  Gods  wondrous  works  be  shown^ 

on  thee  when  I  am  dead. 

12  And  for  these  children  two  of  mine 

heauen  send  thee  such  a  number 
At  once,  as  dayes  be  in  the  yeare, 

to  make  the  world  to  wonder. 
For  I  as  true  a  wife  haue  beene, 

vnto  my  husbands  loue: 
As  any  Lady  on  the  earth, 

vnto  her  Lord  can  proue. 

1 3  Hereat  relenting  I  began, 

to  mourne  for  this  misdeed : 
And  houre  by  houre  in  griefe  thereof, 

my  sorrowing  hart  doth  bleed.^ 
At  last  a  heauie  hand  of  heauen, 

reuengd  this  womans  woes: 
And  on  my  bodies  pampred  pride, 

a  fearefull  Judgement  shoes. 

14  My  cheekes  that  were  so  louely  red, 

of  natures  choycest  dye : 
Grew  blacke  and  vgly  to  behould, 
to  euery  weeping  eye. 

^   Text  show.  2  No  period  in  the  text. 



And  in  my  wombe  distempered  griefes, 

so  vext  me  day  and  night: 
I  sweld  so  big  that  I  appeard, 

a  strange  and  monstrous  wight. 

15    Remembring  then  the  womans  words 

she  grieuing  did  impart, 
A  thousand  strange  misdoubting  feares 

incompast  round  my  heart. 
And  then  me  thought  I  sawe  her  come, 

in  person  vnto  me, 
With  her  two  children  in  her  armes, 

my  sodaine  shame  to  see. 

tS^t  Uttonh  part. 




1 6  AT  which  affright  my  bigg  sweld  wombe 
-Ta.   deHuered  forth  in  feare 

As  many  children  at  one  time 

as  daies  were  in  the  yeare: 
In  bignesse  all  like  newbred  mice, 

yet  each  one  shap'd  aright, 
And  euery  male  from  female  knowne, 

by  Gods  great  power  and  might. 

17  My  husband  hereat  grieued  much, 

with  inward  cares  and  woe, 
And  knew  not  in  what  place  he  should 

these  pretty  ympes  bestowe: 
The  strange  report  of  this  rare  birth 

made  people  much  admire, 
And  of  the  truth  thereof  to  know 

the  neighbours  did  desire. 

1 8  Which  caus'd  my  sorrowes  still  increase 

being  made  my  Countryes  scorne, 
I  wish'd  I  had  in  child-bed  dyed 

before  they  had  beene  borne: 
Then  had  this  shame  vnto  my  friends 

beene  neuer  seene  nor  knowne, 
Nor  I  in  Countries  farre  and  neere 

a  wonder  thus  be^  showne. 

1 9  But  marke  faire  women  of  the  world 

how  Heauen  did  pitty  me, 
When  I  made  sorrowe  for  my  sinnes, 

and  in  extremity: 
God  tooke  from  hence  my  cause  of  shame 

my  children,  weake  and  small: 
The  which  poore  creatures  in  one  graue 

were  strangely  buried  all. 

^  Read  been. 


20  And  on  the  graue  where  now  they  lye 

a  monument  still  stands 
To  shew  this  wondrous  hap  of  mine 

vnto  all  Christian  lands, 
That  such  as  be  of  high  degree 

may  beare  a  meeker  minde, 
Least  they  despising  of  the  poore 

the  like  misfortune  finde. 

21  The  Lord  we  see  his  blessings  sends 

to  many  women  poore 
As  well  as  to  the  noble  sort, 

that  haue  aboundant  store: 
Therefore  let  none  desire  to  haue 

the  ioyes  of  worldly  things 
Except  it  be  his  sacred  will 

that  is  the  King  of  Kings. 


Printed  at  London  for  Henry  Gosson, 

and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop  on 

London  Bridge. 




A  country  new  jig 

Pepys,  I,  260,  278,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Another  splendid  example  of  a  dramatic  jig,  dating  perhaps  about 
1620.  There  are  four  dramatis  personae,  a  fair  plot,  and  considerable  op- 
portunities for  effective  singing  and  dancing.  This  jig  no  doubt  made  a 
satisfactory  conclusion  to  a  play.  Neither  of  the  tunes  is  given  in  Chappell's 
Popular  Music.  The  first  is  derived  from  "A  Maiden's  Lamentation  for  a 
Bedfellow.  Or,  I  can,  nor  will  no  longer  lye  alone.  As  it  hath  often  been 
sung  at  the  Court.  To  the  tune  of/  will  give  thee  kisses,  one,  two,  or  three^^ 
and  is  used  also  in  No.  13.  A  ballad  of  "The  Northamptonshire  Lover," 
printed  early  in  the  seventeenth  century  by  Henry  Gosson,  is  to  the  tune 
oiFalero  lero  lo  (Pepys,  i,  324). 

In  stanza  16  the  curious  notion  that  women  who  died  maids  were 
doomed  to  "lead  apes  in  hell"  is  referred  to.  There  are  innumerable 
statements  of  this  queer  idea  in  the  English  dramatists  from  Peele  and 
Shakespeare  to  Cibber  (cf.  The  Double  Gallant,  ed.  1749,  P-  ^3)-  That 
the  idea  has  not  entirely  been  lost  seems  to  be  shown  in  a  remark  made 
by  the  heroine  of  Mary  Hastings  Bradley's  short  story,  "The  Fairest  Sex," 
in  the  Metropolitan  Magazine  for  March,  1 919  (p.  32):  "I  told  him  that 
rather  'n  kiss  him  I'd  lead  apes  through  hell  a  thousand  years."  Professor 
Kittredge  thinks  that  the  phrase  is  still  in  common  use.  He  refers  me  to 
No.  21  A  in  F.  J.  Child's  English  and  Scottish  Popular  Ballads,  where 
leading  apes  in  hell  for  seven  years  is  mentioned  as  a  punishment  or  pen- 
ance; to  discussions  in  Germania,  xxxiii,  245,  and  the  Modern  Language 
Quarterly,  vii,  16;  and  to  a  comparatively  recent  use  of  the  expression  in 
Allan  Ramsay's  Poems  (1800),  n,  259. 



^  Countrp  netD  Sigge  bettoeene  Simon  anb  Susan^ 
to  be  Slung  in  merr[p]i  pasftime  [tjp]^  Pacljelors;  anb 


To  the  tune  oi  I  can  nor  will  no  longer  lie  alone.  Or,  Falero  lero  lo. 



OMine  owne  sweet  heart, 
and  when  wilt  thou  be  true: 
Or  when  will  the  time  come, 

that  I  shall  marry  you, 
That  I  may  giue  you  kisses, 

one,  two  or  three, 
More  sweeter  then  the  hunny, 
that  comes  from  the  Bee. 


My  Father  is  vnwilling 

that  I  should  marrv  thee, 
Yet  I  could  wish  in  heart, 

that  so  the  same  might  be: 
For  now  me  thinks  thou  seemest, 

more  louely  vnto  me : 
And  fresher  then  the  Blossomes, 

that  bloomes  on  the  tree. 


Thy  mother  is  most  willing, 
and  will  consent  I  know. 

Then  let  vs  to  thy  Father 
now  both  together  goe: 

1  Cutoff.  2  Blurred. 


Where  if  he  giue  vs  his  good  will, 

and  to  our  match  agree: 
Twill  be  sweeter  then  the  hunny 

that  comes  from  the  Bee. 


4  Come  goe,  for  I  am  willing, 

good  fortune  be  our  guide: 
From  that  which  I  haue  promised, 

deare  heart,  He  neuer  slide: 
If  that  he  doe  but  smile, 

and  I  the  same  may  see, 
Tis  better  then  the  blossomes, 

that  bloomes  vpon  the  tree. 


5  But  stay  heere  comes  my^  Mother, 

weele  talke  with  her  a  word: 
I  doubt  not  but  some  comfort, 

to  vs  she  may  afford : 
If  comfort  she  will  give  vs, 

that  we  the  same  may  see, 
Twill  be  sweeter  then  the  hunny, 

that  comes  from  the  Bee. 


6  O  Mother  we  are  going 

my  Father  for  to  pray. 
That  he  will  giue  me  his  good  will, 

for  long  I  cannot  stay. 
A  young  man  I  haue  chosen 

a  fitting  match  for  me. 
More  fayrer  then  the  blossomes 

that  bloomes  on  the  tree. 

1  Perhaps  the  text  should  read  tAy,  though  (as  later  stanzas  show) 
"mother"  and  "father"  were  "very  common  forms  of  address  from  a 
betrothed  person  to  the  father  and  mother  of  the  other  party  to  the  en- 
gagement" (Professor  Kittredge). 



Daughter  thou  art  old  enough 

to  be  a  wedded  wife, 
You  maydens  are  desirous 

to  lead  a  marryed  life. 
Then  my  consent  good  daughter 

shall  to  thy  wishes  be, 
For  young  thou  art  as  blossomes 

that  bloome  vpon  the  tree. 


Then  mother  you  are  willing 

your  daughter  I  shall  haue: 
And  Susan  thou  art  welcome 

He  keepe  thee  fine  and  braue. 
And  haue  those  wished  blessings 

bestowed  vpon  thee. 
More  sweeter  then  the  honey 

that  comes  from  the  Bee. 


Yet  Simon  I  am  minded 

to  lead  a  merry  life, 
And  be  as  well  maintained 

as  any  Citie  wife: 
And  Hue  a  gallant  mistresse 

of  maidens  that  shall  be 
More  fayrer  then  the  blossomes 

that  bloome  vpon  the  tree. 


Wbt  ^econb  part.  Co  tfje  siame  tune. 


10  'T^Hou  shalt  haue  thy  Caudles, 

1     before  thou  dost  arise: 
For  churlishnesse  breeds  sicknesse 

and  danger  therein  lies. 
Young  lasses  must  be  cherisht 

with  sweets  that  dainty  be, 
Farre  sweeter  then  the  honey 

that  commeth  from  the  Bee. 


1 1  Well  said  good  Son  and  Daughter, 

this  is  the  onely  dyet 
To  please  a  dainty  young  wife, 

and  keepe  the  house  in  quiet. 
But  stay,  here  comes  your  father, 

his  words  I  hope  will  be 
More  sweeter  then  the  blossomes 

that  bloome  vpon  the  tree. 


1 2  Why  how  now  daughter  Susan 

doe  you  intend  to  marry? 
Maydens  in  the  old  time 

did  twenty  winters  tarry. 
Now  in  the  teenes  no  sooner 

but  you  a  wife  will  be 
And  loose  the  sweetest  blossome 

that  bloomes  vpon  thy  tree. 


13  It  is  for  my  preferment 

good  father  say  not  nay. 
For  I  haue  found  a  husband  kinde 

and  louing  euery  way: 
That  still  vnto  my  fancy 

will  euermore  agree. 
Which  is  more  sweet  then  honey 

that  comes  from  the  Bee. 




14    Hinder  not  your  daughter, 

good  husband,  lest  you  bring 
Her  loues  consuming  sicknesse, 

or  else  a  worser  thing. 
Maydens  youngly  married 

louing  wiues  will  be 
And  sweet  as  is  the  honey 

which  comes  from  the  Bee. 



1 5    Good  father  be  not  cruell, 

your  daughter  is  mine  owne: 
Her  mother  hath  consented 

and  is  to  liking  growne. 
And  if  your  selfe  will  giue  then, 

her  gentle  hand  to  me, 
Twill  sweeter  be  then  honey 

that  comes  from  the  Bee. 


1 6  God  giue  thee  ioy  deare  Daughter, 

there  is  no  reason  I 
Should  hinder  thy  proceeding, 

and  thou  a  mayden  die: 
And  after  to  lead  Apes  in  hell, 

as  maidens  doomed  be: 
That  fairer  are  then  blossomes 

that  bloome  vpon  the  tree. 


1 7  Then  let's  vnto  the  Parson 

and  Gierke  to  say  Amen: 




With  all  my  heart  good  Simon^ 
we  are  concluded  then, 

My  father  and  my  mother  both 
doe  willingly  agree 

My  Simon  s  sweet  as  honey 
that  comes  from  the  Bee. 

All  together  sing, 

1 8    You  Maidens  and  Bachelors 

we  hope  will  lose  no  time, 
Which  learne  it  by  experience 

that  youth  is  in  the  prime. 
And  dally  in  their  hearts  desire 

young  married  folkes  to  be 
More  sweeter  then  the  blossomes 

that  bloome  vpon  the  tree. 


Imprinted  at  London  for  H.  Gosson. 



I'he  post  ofJV^are 

Pepys,  I,  212,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

The  Post,  perhaps  as  a  burlesque  on  the  "Currants  of  News"  that  were 
just  being  introduced  into  England,  begins  with  some  references  to  affairs 
on  the  Continent,  but  soon  degenerates  into  satirical  comments  about  the 
general  state  of  England  and  its  trades  and  professions.  The  Post-Boy  is 
directed  to  ride  from  London  twenty-two  miles  to  Ware  (the  first  important 
town,  in  Hertfordshire,  on  the  road  north  from  London),  spreading  his 
news  in  every  village  through  which  he  passes.  From  the  references  to 
Spinola  (i  569-1630)  and  the  imminence  of  another  war  between  Spain 
and  the  Netherlands,  it  is  evident  that  the  ballad  was  printed  in  or  slightly 
before  1621,  when  the  war  actually  was  renewed.  In  the  third  stanza  of 
Part  Two  Paul's  steeple  is  mentioned.  It  had  been  destroyed  by  lightning 
on  June  4,  i  561,  but  was  never  reconstructed. 



^f)e  ^osit  of  l^are : 

Wi^  a  ^acfeet  full  of  sitrangc  j^etoetf  out  of 

tiiuers!  Countries!. 

To  a  pleasant  new  Tune. 

AWay,  Away;  make  no  delay, 
't\  this  Newes  requireth  hast; 
Boy,  mount  thy  Mare,  post  hence  to  fFare, 

thou  canst  not  ride  too  fast; 
And  as  thou  rid'st  through  euery  Towne, 

blow  forth  this  liuely  blast: 
All  Cittizens  Wiues 

Are  grown  constant  and  sound. 
And  say.  That  Truth  doth  abound. 
In  euery  Taylors 

Shop  to  bee  found. 



I'th  Street  of  Ware^  good  Boy,  declare, 

we  shall  haue  money  store. 
The  Hollanders  heere  did  tast  our  Beere, 

while  they  could  drinke  no  more; 
Some  lost  their  gold,  which  struck  the  cold 

though  they  were  hot  before: 
And  vexing  for  anger, 

their  money  to  leese. 
They  dranke  old  Sacke  Vpse-freeze\ 
And  lustily  eate  vp 

their  red-coted  Cheese. 

Relate  againe,  this  Newes  from  Spaine^ 

that  they  are  wondrous  rich. 
The  Fleet  of  late,  hath  helpt  their  State, 

by  bringing  home  so  much; 
The  States  and  Spaine,  will  too  't  againe; 

the  Wars  were  nere  none  such. 
And  Spinola  vowes, 

he  no  longer  will  stay. 
But  raise  his  men  by  breake  of  day: 
Heele  burne  vp  their  Forts, 

and  goe  marching  away. 

Say,  France  with  peace  hath  great  increase 

from  euery  Country  neere. 
The  Boores  betimes  renew  their  Vines, 

which  lately  spoyled  were, 
And  some  suppose,  while  Vinyards  grows 

they  make  a  shift  with  Beere : 
And  tell  them  the  next  time 

thou  comst  thither  Post, 
Thou  shalt  bring  news  fro  Englands  Coast 
For  that  is  the  Newes, 

that  concernes  vs  all  most. 

Away  againe.  Post  hence  amaine, 

and  stranger  Newes  declare. 
To  euery  Towne,  both  wise  and  Clowne, 

that  hath  abiding  there, 



For  certaine  tell,  that  all  is  well, 

and  bid  them  banish  feare; 
Say,  Courtiers  are  honest, 

they  lead  vertuous  Hues, 
The  one  by  the  other  louingly  thriues, 
And  all  haue  gi'n  ore 

to  wrong  Citizens  Wiues. 

^fje  ^econb  ^art.  tlTo  tfje  game  tKune. 

6  ^  I  ^He  Country  large,  maintain  their  charge 

L     and  good  Hospitality  vse, 
The  Farmers  bate  of  their  hie  rate, 

and  do  great  Measures  choose; 
The  Land-lords  they,  at  Quarter  day 

doe  Fines  or  Bribes  refuse; 
The  poore  well  are  clothed, 

and  victuals  haue  store, 
The  trades  ar  increasd  which  late  did  deplore. 
And  Constables  scorne 

for  to  fauour  a  Whore. 

7  A  Soldier  true,  come  ouer  new, 

may  quietly  to  his  friends  passe, 
Without  being  staid,  no  wayes  are  laid, 

by  any  inquisitiue  Asse, 
And  Carriers  sing,  they'l  neuer  bring 

London  a  broken  Glasse; 
The  Knights  and  the  Gentry, 

each  keeps  his  house, 
The  neighbors  welcome  to  Brawn  &  Souse, 
And  Beggers  so  proud, 

that  they  all  hate  a  Louse. 

8  All  Citty  Dames  maintaine  their  fames, 

their  pride  they  doe  impayre. 
The  rich  each  day  their  money  lay, 
Pau/s  Steeple  vp  to  reare; 



Each  Prisoners  Fee  discharg'd  shall  be, 

to  quit  them  from  their  care; 
The  Bride-wells  are  alter'd, 

and  Hospitalls  made, 
And  maymed  Soldiers  therein  laid. 
And  euery  Batchelor 

marries  a  Mayd. 

9    By  Merchants  rich  is  giuen  much, 

to  Bankrupts  newly  decay'd. 
The  Merchants  store,  shall  help  the  poore, 

that  want,  to  set  vp  their  Trade; 
From  hud-gate  stones  none  shal  heare  mones 

which  haue  so  long  beene  made; 
The  Usurers,  fiue 

in  the  hundred  will  take, 
Promoters^  all  shall  Soldiers  make. 
And  Whores  are  turnd  honest, 

for  conscience  sake. 

lo    More  mightst  thou  say  my  fine-tongu'd  Boy, 

of  this  our  happy  Newes, 
If  any  grieue  for  to  beleeue, 

I  prethee  bid  them  choose; 
And  those  that  will  to  London  still 

these  obiects  come  and  peruse; 
Where  you  shall  find  honestly 

all  that  I  say, 
Prouide,  make  hast,  vse  no  delay: 
For  all  this  shall  be 

betwixt  this  and  Doomes-day. 

Jf  inijf.    The  Post. 

Printed  at  London  for  /.  Trundle. 
^   Text  Promooter. 



T'he  downfall  of  a  corrupted 

Pepys,  I,  142,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Sir  Francis  Michell — Justice  of  the  Peace  of  Middlesex  and  commis- 
sioner for  enforcing  monopolies — is  a  pathetic  figure.  On  October  20, 
1 61 8,  he  was  appointed,  along  with  Sir  Giles  Mompesson  (the  Sir  Giles 
Overreach  of  Massinger's  New  Way  to  Pay  Old  Debts),  on  a  commission 
charged  with  enforcing  a  monopoly  of  gold  and  silver  thread.  In  this 
capacity  for  two  years  he  exercised  his  powers  corruptly  and  harshly.  He 
was  knighted  in  December,  1620.  In  the  following  February,  however, 
he  was  committed  for  contempt  to  the  Tower  by  the  House  of  Commons. 
Examined  by  the  Commons  on  March  6,  162 1,  he  was  tried,  on  April  26, 
at  the  bar  of  the  House  of  Lords,  where  the  chief  accusation  was  that  he 
had  erected  an  office,  kept  a  court,  and  exacted  bonds,  and  that  he  had 
taken  money  in  a  suit  to  compound  the  same.  On  May  4  he  was  sentenced 
by  the  Lord  Chief  Justice  to  degradation  from  knighthood,  fined  ;^iooo, 
debarred  from  holding  office  in  the  future,  and  ordered  to  be  imprisoned 
during  the  King's  pleasure.  On  June  30,  1621,  Michell  petitioned  for 
release  "from  the  rest  of  his  censure,  being  old  and  sickly,"  and  the  petition 
was  granted  (Calendar  of  State  Papers,  Domestic,  1619-23,  p.  269).  A 
sentence  similar  to  Michell's  had  been  passed  on  Mompesson,  who  was 
exceptionally  unpopular  because  of  his  patent  on  inns  and  alehouses;  but 
he  escaped  to  the  Continent. 

In  his  Chronicle  of  England  Sir  Richard  Baker  simply  remarks  that 
Michell  was  "made  to  ride  with  his  Face  to  the  Horse's  Tail  through  the 
City  of  London."  The  ballad,  which  has  remained  unknoviTi  to  Michell's 
biographers,  is  a  far  more  valuable  and  picturesque  account  of  the  public 
degradation  inflicted  on  him  by  the  Earl  Marshal's  Commissioners  at  the 
King's  Bench,  Westminster  Hall,  on  June  20,  1621.  Equally  unknowTi  is 
the  splendid  "good-night"  preserved  in  Bodley's  Library  (MS.  Tanner 
306,  fols.  247—248^)  under  the  title  of  "A  lamentable  newe  Ballade  ex- 
pressing the  Complaynte  of  S^  Fraunces  Michell,  Knighte,  DweKinge  in 
Pickt  hatche,  lateley  Justice  of  Peace.  To  a  scuruey  tune."  It  begins: 

You  Justices  &  men  of  myghte. 
You  Constables  that  walke  by  nyghte, 
And  all  you  officers  more  lowe, 
But  marke  my  sudden  overthrowe. 



The  tune  is  not  known  to  me.  The  printer's  initials  are  those  of  George 
Elde  or  George  Edwards. 

CJje  tresierueb  botonfaU  of  a  corrupteb  conscience, 
begrabetr  from  all  ^utfjoritp  anb  titles;  of  ilnigf)tf)oob, 
censiureb  in  tfje  fjist)  Court  of  parliament,  anb  ex= 
ecuteb  at  tfje  Icings;  pencfj  barre  bpon  tfje  20.  bap 
of  3une  lasit,  1621.  in  t^e  presence  of  foure  great 
^eereg  of  tfjisJ  Eingbome. 

To  the  tune  of,  The  humming  of  the  Drove. 

1  T  T  was  my  chance  of  late 
A  in  Westminster  to  be, 

Whereas  in  gallant  state 
great  numbers  I  did  see, 

attending  all 

in  that  great  Hall, 
Where  Justice  is  decreed, 

and  people  store 

came  more  and  more, 
Which  did  amazement  breed. 

2  At  last,  my  longing  eyes 

(expecting  some  strange  thing) 
Knight  Marshals  men  espies, 
with  Harrolds  of  our  King, 
awaiting  there 
as  duties  were. 
To  haue  some  action  done, 
where  presently 
I  heard  a  cry, 
[Mak]e^  roome,  for  now  they  come. 

3  It  seem'd  he  was  a  Knight, 

and  lustice  by  degree, 

^  Torn.  Only  a  few  words  of  the  stanza  that  followed  this  remain. 
R.p.G.  I4r  K 


By  wrongs  in  stead  of  right, 
great  benefits  gain'd  he: 
by  wrested  Lawes 
much  wealth  he  drawes 
From  many  a  poore  mans  state, 
for  which  it  seem'd, 
he  thus  was  deem'd 
t  A  bribed  Magistrate. 

4  Unto  the  Barre  thus  brought, 

foure  Nobles  of  our  Land, 
By  wisedome  fittest  thought, 
did  in  Commission  stand, 
to  take  away 
his  titles  gay 
Of  Knighthood  and  renowne, 
and  that  high  grace 
of  Justice  place. 
In  open  Court  lay  downe. 

5  In  that  the  King  him  gaue 

these  honors  by  his  loue. 
So  likewise  must  they  haue 
an  order  of  remoue, 
by  noble  States 
and  Magistrates 
Of  great  account  and  place: 
and  thus  was  he 
from  dignity, 
Made  seruile,  meane,  and  base. 

6  Before  high  lustice  seat, 

the  Harrolds  there  him  set. 
And  did  at  full  repeat 
his  knightly  titles  great, 

and  him  attir'd 

as  place  requir'd, 



In  robes  of  Knighthood  braue, 

with  spurs  and  sword, 

as  did  accord 
What  grace  his  Highnesse  gaue. 

7    All  which  was  taken  quite, 
by  order  and  command. 
From  this  degraded  Knight, 
by  a  Marshals  seruants  hand, 
in  open  Court, 
before  a  sort 
Of  Barons,  Lords  and  Knights: 
to  his  disgrace, 
euen  in  that  place 
Where  lustice  pleadeth  rights. 

Cfie  sieconb  ^art.    Co  tfje  siame  Cune. 

His  Sword  of  Knighthood,  first 
was  cut  from  off  his  side. 
And  ouer  his  head  there  burst, 
that  should  haue  beene  his  pride, 
and  Knighthoods  grace, 
in  courtly  place 




But  he  the  same  hath  wrong'd, 

and  now  cast  downe 

the  faire  renowne 
To  his  knighthood  that  belong'd.^ 

9    His  spurs  of  Knighthood  then, 

was  from  his  heeles  there  hewen, 
And  by  the  Marshals  men 
in  high  disgraces  throwne 
into  the  Hall, 
amongst  them  all 
That  stood  with  gazing  eyes, 
to  marke  and  see 
in  what  degree 
Degraded  Knighthood  lies. 

10  His  sword,  his  spurres,  his  name, 

his  titles,  and  his  state, 
His  knighthood  and  his  fame, 
which  he  possest  so  late 
thus  all  disgrac't 
and  cleane  defac't 
For  euer  claiming  more, 

and  chang'd  him  quite 
from  being  Knight 
And  what  he  had  before. 

1 1  This  Censure  by  command, 

vpon  him  then  was  layd. 
That  no  where  in  this  Land, 
of  him  be  iustly  said, 
or  nam'd  to  be 
in  his  degree 
A  iust  and  honest  man, 
but  one  whose  vaine, 
for  greedy  gaine. 
To  shamelesse  dealing  ran. 

^  No  period  in  text. 


12  And  so  with  vile  reproach 

he  was  from  thence  sent  backe, 
And  hurried  in  a  Coach 

where  did  no  wondring  lacke, 
of  cries  and  shouts 
with  mocking  flouts, 
Untill  he  came  where  he 
should  lye  againe, 
and  there  remaine, 
A  prisoner  close  to  be.^ 

1 3  No  Knight  nor  Justice  now, 

nor  of  no  other  stile, 
Our  Land  will  him  allow, 

but  that  which  makes  me  smile, 
for  what  I  heard 
I  am  afeard 
To  adde  vnto  his  name, 
but  let  that  rest 
within  my  brest. 
And  so  be  free  from  blame. 

14  But  thus  much  I  will  say, 

true  iustice  here  was  done, 
To  him  that  many  a  day 
did  to  Much  euill  run : 
much  good  thereby, 
Now  comes  vnto  our  Land,^ 
in  driuing  hence, 
this  plague  of  pence. 
That  stood  with  open  hand. 

Printed  at  London  by  G.  E. 
1  Text  has  a  comma.  ^  Text  has  a  period. 


A  battle  of  birds 

Pepys,  I,  70,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

A  more  complete  account  of  this  marvel  in  Ireland  is  given,  with  some 
variations  in  dates  and  minor  details,  in  a  nine-page  pamphlet  called  ''''The 
Wonderfvll  Battell  of  Stare  lings:  Fought  at  the  Citie  of  Corke  in  Ireland, 
the  12.  and  i\.  of  October  last  past.  1621.  Js  it  hath  been  credibly  enformed 
by  diuers  Noble-men,  and  others  of  the  said  Kingdome,  l^c.  London, 
Printed  for  N.  B[ourne].  1622"  (British  Museum,  C.  32.  e.  7).  The 
preface,  referring  to  this  ballad  and  others  now  lost,  complains  "that  so 
many  poeticall  fictions  haue  of  late  passed  the  print,  that  they  [i.e.  readers] 
haue  some  cause  to  suspect  almost  euery  extraordinary  report  that  is 
printed";  but  says  that  the  facts  in  the  pamphlet  are  confirmed  by  "Letters, 
from  Right  Honorable  persons  in  Ireland  where  the  accident  fell  out,  to 
Right  Honourable  persons  at  Court,  and  diuers  in  London  at  this  present: 
as  also  by  the  testimony  of  Right  Honourable  and  WorshipfuU  persons,  & 
others  of  good  reputation  now  in  London,  who  were  eye-witnesses."  It 
also  adds  that  "these  strange  newes  out  of  Ireland  had  beene  printed 
before  this  time,  but  that  it  hath  beene  stayed  till  the  truth  were  fully 
certified  and  examined." 

To  summarize  the  body  of  the  pamphlet:  "About  the  seuenth  of  October 
last,  Jnno  1621.  there  gathered  together  by  degrees,  an  vnusual  multitude 
of  birds  called  Stares,  in  some  Countries  knowne  by  the  name  of  Starlings"; 
"they  mustered  together  at  this  aboue-named  Citie  oi Corke  some  foure  or 
fiue  dales,  before  they  fought  their  battels,  euery  day  more  and  more 
encreasing  their  armies  with  greater  supplies,  some  came  from  the  East, 
others  from  the  West,  and  so  accordingly  they  placed  themselues";  "some 
twenty  or  thirty  in  a  company,  would  passe  from  the  one  side  to  the  other, 
as  it  should  seem  imployed  in  embassages."  On  October  12,  Saturday,  at 
nine  a.m.,  the  battle  began.  It  continued  "till  a  little  before  night,  at 
which  time  they  seemed  to  vanish."  On  Sunday  they  were  seen  fighting 
"betwixt  Grauesend  and  Wolzoigge"  but  on  Monday  they  returned  to 
Cork  for  a  further  battle.  There  is  a  contemporary  copy  (1621)  of  most 
of  this  pamphlet  in  Richard  Shanne's  diary  (Additional  MS.  38,599,  fols. 
53-54),  and  the  battle  of  birds  is  commented  on,  also,  in  the  Diary  of 
Walter  Tonge  for  September,  162 1  (ed.  George  Roberts,  p.  45). 

A  similar  prodigy,  and  one  of  equally  dire  import,  happened  "Neere 
Troppaw  in  Silesia,  in  the  Moneth  of  February,  Jnno.  1625.  [where]  a 


great  multitude  of  little  Crowes  {Corniculae)  appeared  in  the  Ayre,  which 
fought  as  it  were  in  a  set  Battaile,  and  skirmished  so  eagerly,  killing  many 
amongst  themselves,  that  the  Boores  gathered  some  sacks  full  of  them  dead, 
and  transported  them  unto  the  City.  The  yeere  after,  Anno.  1626.  fell  out 
a  hard  and  sharpe  fight,  betwixt  the  Imperialists,  and  the  Weinmarlsh 
Forces  in  this  place"  (L.  Brinckmair,  The  Warnings  of  German'^,  1638, 
p.  25).  Compare  also  No.  26,  which  deals  with  a  much  later  battle  of 
birds  in  France,  and  No.  25,  in  which  the  burning  of  Cork  in  1622  is 
taken  to  be  the  calamity  predicted  in  the  ballad. 

For  another  contemporary  reference  to  the  battle  of  the  birds  see  the 
Court  and  Times  of  James  I,  11,  302. 

For  the  tune  of  Shore's  Wife  see  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  1,  2 1  5 ;  for 
Bonny  Nell,  see  the  same  work,  11,  502. 

^  tiattell  of  iiirti£{ 
iHosit  sitranglp  fougtjt  in  Srelanb,  bpon  tfje  eigfit  bap 
of  ^eptemtier  lasit,  1621.  toftere  neere  bnto  tije  Cittp 
of  Corfee,  tip  tfje  riuer  Hee,  toeare  gatfjereb  together 
gucf)  a  muUptube  of  Stared,  or  Starlings!,  ag  tfje  lifee 
for  number,  toafif  neuer  fifeene  in  anp  age. 

To  the  tune  of  Shores  wife.  Or  to  the  tune  of  Bonny  Nell. 

1  A  yJArke  well,  Gods  wonderous  workes,  and  see, 
IVX  what  things  therein  declared  be, 

Such  things  as  may  with  trembling  feare, 
fright  all  the  world,  the  same  to  heare: 
for  like  to  these,  which  heere  I  tell, 
no  man  aliue  remembreth  well. 

2  The  eight  day  of  September  last, 

which  made  all  Ireland  much  agast: 
Were  seene  (neere  Corke)  such  flights  of  Birds, 

whose  numbers,  cannot  well  by  words, 
acounted  be:  for  greater  store, 
was  neuer  seene,  nor  knowne  before. 

3  The  flights,  so  many  legions  seem'd, 

as  thousand  thousands  they  were  deem'd. 


All  soaring  vp,  along  the  skye, 
as  if  the  battle  were  on  hie: 

in  multytudes,  without  compare, 

which  like  black  clowds,  made  dim  the  are. 

4  First  from  the  easterne  skyes  apeared, 

a  flight  of  Stares,  which  greatly  feared, 
The  people  there,  the  same  to  see, 

as  like  could  not  remembred  be: 
for  they  in  warlike  squadrons  flew, 
as  if  they  others  would  persue. 

5  And  as  this  flight,  thus  houering  lay, 

prepared  all  in  battle  ray: 
From  out  the  west,  another  came, 

as  great  in  number  as  the  same, 

and  there  oppos'd  in  warlike  might, 
themselues  against  the  other  flight. 

6  Whereas  these  Stares,  or  starling  Birds, 

for  want  of  Helmetts,  Glaues  and  Swords, 
They  vsed  their  Tallents,  Bills,  and  Beakes,i 

and  such  a  battle  vndertakes : 

that  trembling  feare  and  terror  brought, 
to  all  which  saw  this  battle  fought. 

7  For  first,  the  Easterne  flight  sat  downe, 

with  chattering  noyes  vpon  the  ground. 
As  if  they  challenged,  all  the  rest, 

to  meete  and  fight  euen  brest  to  brest, 
where  presently  was  heard  from  farre, 
the  same  like  chattering  sound  of  warre. 

8  And  therevpon  the  westerne  flight, 

downe  by  the  easterne  Birds  did  light. 
Where  after  they  a  while  had  sat, 
together  in  their  Birdlike  chat, 
they  all  vpon  a  sudaine  rose, 
and  each  the  other  did  oppose. 
^   Text  Bekaes. 


Wbt  sfeconti  part,  to  tfje  siame  tune. 

9      ANd  filling  thus  the  Azure  skie 

•t\  with  these  their  troupes  vp  mounted  hie, 
They  seem'd  more  thick,  then  moats  ith  Sunne, 
a  dreadfull  battle  there  begun : 

and  in  their  kind  more  strongly  fought, 
then  can  immagen'd  be  by  thought. 

10  Thousands  of  thousands,  on  a  heape, 

vpon  the  others  backes  did  leape. 
With  all  their  forced  strengths  and  might, 

to  put  their  Bird-like  foes  to  flight: 
and  as  it  were  in  battle  ray, 
long  time  they  kept  them,  thus  in  play. 

1 1  To  fight  this  battle  in  the  ayre, 

their  bills  and  beakes  their  weapons  were. 
Which  they  performed  in  such  a  sort, 
as  makes  me  doubtfull  to  report: 
that  silly  Birds  should  thus  arise, 
and  fight  so  fircely  in  the  skyes. 

12  But  so  it  was  and  strange  withall,^ 

that  Birds  should  thus  at  discord  fall. 
And  neuer  cease,  till  they  had  slaine, 

thousands,  starke  dead  vpon  the  plaine: 
where  people  tooke  them  vp  in  feare, 
a  thing  most  strange  to  see  and  heare. 

1 3  With  broken  wings,  some  fell  to  ground, 

and  some  poore  silly  Birds  were  found, 
With  eyes  pickt  out,  struck  downe  halfe  dead, 

and  some  no  braines  left  in  their  head; 
but  battered  forth,  and  kil'd  outright, 
most  strangly  in  this  ayery  fight. 

^  Text  has  a  period. 



14  Yet  long  with  loud  and  chattering  cryes, 

each  company  gainst  other  flyes: 
With  bloody  beakes,  remorselesse  still, 
their  fethered  foes  to  maine  or  kill, 
where  whilst  this  battle  did  remaine 
their  bodies  fell  like  dropes  of  raine. 

1 5  Thousands  were  to  the  Citty  borne, 

with  wounded  limbes,  and  bodies  torne: 
For  all  the  fields  were  ouerspread, 

with  mangled  starlings  that  lay  dead,^ 
in  bloud  and  feathers  Strang  to  se, 
which  men  tooke  vp  aboundantly. 

1 6  It  was  a  wonder  to  explaine, 

the  number  of  them  hurt  and  slaine, 
And  being  a  wonder  let  it  rest, 

the  Lord  aboue  he  knoweth  best: 

what  these  poore  creatures  did  intend, 
when  thus  to  battle  they  did  bend. 

1 7  But  such  a  battle  nere  was  fought, 

by  silly  Birds  which  haue  no  thought: 
In  doing  ill,  nor  any  mind, 

to  worke  contrary  to  their  kind, 
but  yet  as  nature  gaue  them  life, 
so  here  they  strangly  fell  at  strife. 

1 8  What  now  for  trueth  is  publisht  forth 

esteeme  it  as  a  newes  of  worth : 
And  by  the  wonder  of  these  dayes, 

learne  to  leaue  off  all  wicked  wayes, 
for  sure  it  is  that  God  it  sent, 
that  of  our  sinnes  we  should  repent. 


Printed  at  London  by  W.I. 
^  Text  has  a  period. 





T'he  lamentable  burning  of  Cork 

Pepys,  I,  68,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

By  a  strange  coincidence  a  disastrous  fire  swept  the  city  of  Cork  (see 
Caulfield's  Council  Book  of  Cork,  p.  102)  shortly  after  the  battle  of  the 
birds  there  (cf.  No.  24);  and  in  this  coincidence  ballad-writers  and 
Jacobean  journalists  naturally  exulted.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  ballad  the 
author,  or  more  probably  the  printer,  invites  his  readers  to  go  to  "the  full 
Relation  at  large  in  the  Booke  newly  Printed,"  an  invitation  that  we  shall 
accept,  as  the  "book,"  of  nine  pages,  is  preserved  in  the  British  Museum 
(C.  32.  3.  6)1.  It  is  entitled: 

A  Relation  Of  The  Most  lamentable  Burning  of  the  Cittie  of  Corke,  in  the  ivest  of 
Ireland,  in  the  Pro'vince  of  Monster,  by  Thunder  and  Lightning.  With  other  most 
doLefull  and  miserable  accidents,  luhich  fell  out  the  last  of  May  1622  after  the 
prodigious  battell  of  the  birds  called  Stares,  'which  fought  strangely  oijer  and  neare 
that  Citie  the  12.  &  14.  of  May  1621.  As  it  hath  beene  Reported  to  divers  Right 
Honourable  Persons.  [Cut]  Printed  this  20.  of  lune.  1622.  London  Printed  by 
I.D.  for  Nicholas  Bourne,  and  Thomas  Archer,  1622. 

In  the  preface,  mention  is  made  of  the  earlier  book  that  Nathaniel  Bourne 
had  printed  on  the  battle  of  the  birds:  "This  report  being  so  strange,  was 
of  some  censured  as  an  vntrue  and  idle  invention;  Of  others,  which 
vnderstood,  and  by  enquirie  were  resolved  of  the  truth,  it  was  imagined  to 
prognosticate  some  strange  and  dreadfull  accident  to  follow.  .  .the  Omni- 
potent Maiestie  of  heaven  hath  not  onely  reprooved  their  vanitie,  who 
would  not  beleeue  so  strange  a  Relation,  but  hath  further  by  a  most  dread- 
full  and  lamentable  demonstration  of  his  power  and  Justice,  resolved  what 
that  battell  of  Birds  might  or  did  prognosticate." 

The  writer  then  proceeds  to  show  that,  like  Sodom  and  Gomorrah, 
Cork  was  first  warned  and  next  destroyed  for  her  sins:  "The  Citizens, 
and  Inhabitants  of  Corke,  haue  beene  taxed  and  noted  for  Fsury,  (the 
chiefest  Daughter  of  Covetousnesse)  to  exceed  any  Cittie  in  the  Kings 
Dominions,  except  some  Citties  in  England.''''  Of  the  actual  burning  of  the 
city,  on  Friday,  May  31,  1622,  between  eleven  and  twelve  a.m.,  the 
pamphleteer  adds  nothing  to  the  balladist's  account.  He  concludes  by  re- 
minding his  readers:  "These  inhabitants  of  the  Cittie  oi  Corke,  were  not 
the  onely  and  greatest  sinners,  aboue  all  other  Citties  in  England  or  Ire- 
land''^:  they  were  merely  chosen  as  an  example  of  God's  punishment  be- 
cause they  disregarded  the  warning  given  by  the  birds. 

^  It  was  licensed  for  publication  on  June  19,  1622. 


More  interesting  than  the  pamphlet  is  the  brief  personal  note  in  Richard 
Shanne's  diary  (Additional  MS.  38,599,  fol.  54^): 

The  30  daie  of  may  was  the  Cittie  of  Corke  in  Ireland  Burned  with  fyre  from 
heaven,  over  which  Cittie  the  yeare  befor,  the  great  battell  of  Shepsternells  was 
fought,  as  ye  may  reed  in  the  yeare  An.  Do.  162 1  [i.e.  on  fol.  53  of  his  own 
diary] .  There  was  verie  manie  pore  people  of  Ireland  came  into  this  Cuntrie  A 
begginge,  which  was  vtterlie  vndune  by  reasone  of  the  said  fyre.  I  my  owne 
selfe  did  talke  with  divers  of  those  people  that  dwelled  in  the  Cittie  of  Corke, 
and  did  enquire  of  them  whether  of  A  trueth  there  was  such  A  battell  of  Shep- 
starnell  as  reporte  went,  and  whether  the  Cittie  was  burned  as  is  afForesaid. 
A[nd]  they  ail  agreed  and  tould  me  that  there  was  whole  Cart-lodes  taken  vp 
of  those  Shepstares  that  was  slayne  in  the  fight. 

The  tune  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  162. 

Ws^t  lamentable  Purning  of  tfie  Cittp  of  Corke  (in  tfie 
^rowince  of  Munster  in  Ireland)  tip  Higtlning: 
tofjicfi  ijappenetr  tfje  Hasit  of  iHap,  1622.  ^fter  tfje 
probigioug  Pattell  of  tije  Stares^  tnfjicf)  Jf ougbt  mosit 
gtrangelp  ouer  anti  neere  tijat  Cittp,  tfje  12.  anlJ  14. 

of  ilap.  1621. 

To  the  tune  of  Fortune  my  foe. 

1  AT  7"  Ho  please  to  heare  such  newes  as  are  most  true, 

V  V  Such  newes  to  make  a  Christians  hart  to  rue : 
Such  Newes  as  may  make  stoutest  hearts  to  shake, 
And  Sinners  iustly  to  tremble  and  to  quake. 

2  Reade  this,  and  they  shall  haue  iust  cause  to  feare, 
Gods  heauy  hand  on  sinne  reported  heere: 

Twas  lately  heard  that  Birds  all  of  a  feather. 

Did  strangely  meete,  and  strangely  fought  together. 

3  At  Corke.,  in  Ireland.,  where  with  might  and  maine. 
They  fought  together  till  store  of  them  were  slaine: 
Their  Fight  began  and  ended  with  such  hate, 
Some  strange  euent  it  did  Prognosticate. 

4  What  was  presag'd  fell  out  this  last  of  May^ 
Which  was  at  Corke  an  heauy  dismall  day: 
This  last  of  May  the  Morning  was  most  faire. 
Towards  xij.  a  clocke,  Cloudes  gathered  in  the  Ayre. 



5  Which  Cloudes  obscur'd,  and  darkened  so  the  light, 
That  Midday  almost  was  as  darke  as  Night : 
Whilest  at  such  darknes  Cittizens  did  wonder, 
Forthwith  they  heard  a  dreadfull  clap  of  Thunder. 

6  And  with  the  Thunder,  presently  there  came 

Such  Lightning  forth  the  Clouds  did  seeme  to  flame : 
But  heere  obserue,  this  Citty  towards  the  East, 
Stands  high,  but  falleth  lowe  towards  the  West. 

7  As  at  the  East  the  Stares  began  their  Fight, 

And  there  fell  downe  the  Birds  first,  kild  outright: 

So  at  the  East  began  the  Fire  to  flame. 

Those  at  the  West  did  soone  beholde  the  same. 

8  And  towards  the  East,  to  see  and  helpe  they  ranne, 
Before  halfe  way,  a  wofull  Cry  began : 

Behinde  them,  seeing  the  West  end  was  on  Fire, 
They  so  recalld,  began  for  to  retire. 

9  As  from  the  East,  towards  the  West  they  turne. 
They  saw  the  middest  of  the  Citty  burne: 

So  at  an  instant  all  was  on  a  flame. 

There  was  no  meanes  to  helpe  to  quench  the  same. 

10  Although  great  store  of  Water  was  in  place, 
W^ater  could  not  helpe  there  in  such  a  case: 

For  why  that  Fire  which  from  the  Skyes  doth  fall, 
Is  not  with  Water  to  be  quencht  at  all. 

1 1  Now  were  the  Cittizens  ouerwhelm'd  with  woe. 
For  no  man  knew,  which  way  to  runne  or  goe : 
For  in  the  Citty  no  man  could  abide. 

The  Fire  raged  so  on  euery  side. 

1 2  Some  were  enclosed  with  Fire,  they  for  their  safety 
Fled  to  the  Churches,  which  were  in  the  Citty: 
Some  to  an  Hand,  and  the  Fields  hard  by. 

To  saue  their  Hues,  with  grieued  hearts  did  flye. 


1 3    Who  was  not  then  tormented  in  his  minde, 
To  flye  and  leaue  all  that  he  had  behinde? 
When  that  the  Husband,  for  to  saue  his  life, 
Might  not  make  stay  to  bring  away  his  Wife, 


Or  saue  his  Children :  in  like  case  the  Mother, 
Fled  from  her  Children,  Sister  fled  from  Brother: 
All  were  amazed  in  this  wofull  Day, 
Not  knowing  where  to  flye  nor  where  to  stay: 

1 5    Nor  where  to  seeke  or  after  Friends  enquire, 

They  knew  not  who  was  sau'd,  who  burnt  by  Fire; 
A  dolefull  thing  it  was  men  might  not  tarry, 
Out  of  the  flames,  their  dearest  Friends  to  carry. 

Kf^t  ^econb  part.  Ko  ti)e  siame  tune. 

1 6    /^  That  this  wofull  chance  of  Corke  might  rent, 
V^y  The  hearts  of  men  and  cause  them  to  repent 
Their  wicked  Hues  for  to  escape  the  Rod, 
Which  they  haue  cause  to  feare,  will  fall  from  God. 



1 7  Corke  to  all  Citties,  may  example  bee, 

To  know  they  are  not  from  Gods  Justice  free: 
For  being  Sinners  they  may  feare  the  like, 
As  fell  to  Corke ^  God  in  his  wrath  will  strike. 

1 8  But  they  will  say,  God's  mercifull,  'tis  true, 
But  in  this  case,  let  them  giue  God  his  due: 
Let  them  not  so  vnto  his  mercy  trust. 

But  let  them  know  that  God  is  also  lust. 

19  God's  mercifull  to  Sinners  which  repent, 
His  Justice  is  towards  lingring  sinners  bent: 
Who  will  take  holde  of  mercy  and  of  Grace, 

Let  them  repent  whilest  they  haue  time  and  space. 

20  Repentance  onely  pacifies  Gods  Ire, 
Preserues  from  sodaine,  and  Eternall  Fire: 
This  word  Repentance,  is  a  wicked  thing, 
To  wicked  Liuers,  'tis  a  Serpents  sting. 

2 1  Why  should  Repentance  be  so  bitter,  when 
Tis  the  onely  salue  to  Cure  sinfull  men  } 
And  furthermore  when  as  we  are  most  sure. 
That  dye  we  must  wee  cannot  long  endure. 

22  When  we  are  sure,  we  from  this  world  must  goe. 
But  by  what  kinde  of  Death,  we  doe  not  know: 
No  more  then  Corke  did  when  that  God  did  powre 
The  Fire  vpon  them  in  a  dreadfull  houre. 

23  Why  should  not  we  be  well  prouided  then. 
Against  a  certaine  Death,  but  know  not  when : 
Nor  by  what  kinde  of  death.  Death  will  vs  take, 
Then  let  Repentance  our  attonement  make. 

24  If  men  Repentance  in  this  life  doe  stay. 
Let  them  consider  of  the  ludgement  day: 
When  God  to  Sinners,  shall  say  in  his  Ire: 
Goe  hence  yee  Cursed  to  Eternall  Fire. 



25  But  who  in  Life  did  faithfully  Repent, 

When  they  shall  come  to  appeare  at  that  Judgement 
The  ludge  will  say :  Goe  Children  of  all  Blisse^ 
Enter  the  Kingdome^  for  you  -prepared  is. 

26  The  God  of  Heauen  graunt,  that  all  Sinners  take, 
That  course  which  may  them  blessed  creatures  make, 
That  come  yee  Blessed^  with  a  ioyfull  eare, 

They  from  the  ludge  at  that  maine  day  may  heare. 

Printed  at  London  by  E.A. 

Tou  shall  see  the  full  Relation  at  large  in  the  Booke 

newly  printed. 



T'he  Frenchmen^ s  wonder 

4*0  Rawlinson  566,  fol.  78;  Wood  E.  25  (64),  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four 

The  ballad  is  summarized  from  a  book  called  A  Trve  Relation  of  The 
Prodigious  Battle  Of  Birds,  Fought  in  the  lower  Region  of  the  Air,  Between 
the  Cities  of  Dole  and  Salines,  The  26th  of  February  last  167I.  According 
to  the  Letters  from  Besancon,  of  the  First  of  this  Instant  March,  1 676  (Wood 
D.  28  (22)).  In  the  opinion  of  the  authors  of  both  tract  and  ballad  "the 
like  of  this  marvel  hath  never  been."  But  to  say  nothing  of  the  earlier 
prodigy  at  Cork  (No.  24),  more  startling  still  must  have  been  the  sight 
seen  in  the  air  in  Austria,  1621,  as  reported  in  Richard  Shanne's  diary 
(Additional  MS.  38,599,  fol.  53)  from  "the  historie  of  Gallobelgicus": 

In  the  moneth  of  August  there  was  both  seene  and  hearde  in  the  higher 
Austria,  A  most  straunge  wonder,  that  is  to  sale:  of  two  great  Armies  in  the 
Ayre,  fightinge  one  against  an  other,  and  thundringe  of,  and  discharginge 
greate  Ordinance,  with  A  hidious  clamore. 

Hone's  Every-Day  Book  (1889,  11,  570)  reports  that  in  August,  1736, 
near  Preston  two  large  flocks  of  birds  met  "with  such  rapidity,  that  one 
hundred  and  eighty  of  them  fell  to  the  ground,"  and  that  the  carcasses  were 
picked  up  and  sold. 

The  enormously  long  title  gives  quite  as  much  information  as  the  text 
of  the  ballad  itself.  The  reason  for  this  was  that  the  printers  wished  to  use 
the  title,  torn  from  the  remainder  of  the  broadside,  as  advertising  matter 
to  be  pasted  on  walls  or  posts.  Salins  and  Dole  are  towns  on  the  eastern 
frontier  of  France,  in  the  department  of  Jura. 

The  music  for  In  summer  time  as  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  11, 
392,  542,  does  not  fit  this  ballad.  That  music  is  written  for  iambic  septenary 
couplets,  while  the  present  ballad  (like  those,  for  example,  in  the  Roxburghe 
Ballads,  VI,  567,  789;  vii,  702)  is  in  iambic  tetrameter  quatrains.  Few- 
tunes  are  more  frequently  cited  than  the  Summer  time  written  for  the  latter 
measure.  It  is  named  as  an  alternative  tune  to  Callino  in  J.  P.  Collier's 
Book  of  Roxburghe  Ballads,  p.  64;  to  Flora  farewell  a.r\d  Love's  Tide  in  the 
Roxburghe  Ballads,  vi,  567.  Frequently  it  is  given  as  equivalent  to  My 
bleeding  heart  or  Sir  Andrew  Barton  {Roxburghe  Ballads,  i,  9;  iii,  23), 
neither  of  which  is  known.  I  have  seen,  however,  in  the  Manchester  Free 
Reference  Library  a  ballad  of  "The  Great  Turk's  Terrible  Challenge"  to 

R.P.G.  161  L 


the  tune  of  My  bleeding  heart  or  Let' s  to  the  tears  again.  The  latter  is 
equivalent  (cf.  No.  73)  to  Maying  Time  (for  which  see  Chappell's  Popular 
Music,  I,  377),  and  to  Maying  Time  the  present  ballad  can  readily  be  sung. 

tKije  Frenchmens  ^^T^onber ; 
Cte  pattle  ot  tiie  Pirbs: 

Relating  that  on  the  16th.  of  Feb.  last,  about  9  in  the 
morning  were  seen  between  Dole  and  Salins  in  France.,  a 
most  incredible  number  of  Birds,  who  by  their  multitude 
darkened  the  Sky;  after  having  for  some  time,  as  it  were 
skirmished  together  in  great  confusion,  they  seperated 
into  two  bodies;  and  after  most  horrible  cries,  they  en- 
gaged against  each  other  with  such  fury,  that  several 
thousands  were  fain  dead  to  the  Earth;  some  smothered 
with  most  of  their  feathers  off,  and  others  all  bloody  and 
torn;  These  Birds  were  of  a  hundred  several  sorts,  of 
several  sizes,  and  several  colours.  Those  which  were  most 
Numerous  weighed  four  or  five  pounds  a  piece;  their 
claws  were  like  those  of  Indian  Hens,  Nibs  crooked  like 
Parrots,  and  their  feathers  of  an  Ash  colour;  about  500 
Paces  of  Ground  were  covered  with  these  dead  carkasses 
to  a  mans  height.  Besides  several  Thousands  that  were 
found  dispersed  here  and  there:  Insomuch  that  it  being 
feared  that  the  Air  might  be  infected  by  them.  Pioneers 
were  sent  from  Dole  to  bury  them. 

WM^  ailotoance,  a^ogcr  E'Csftrange. 

To  the  tune  of.  In  Summer  time. 

1  /~^Ome  give  attention  young  and  old, 
v»-/  whilst  in  my  story  I  proceed. 
Strange  wonders  dayly  we  behold, 

yet  pass  them  over  without  heed. 

2  From  places  strange,  by  Sea  and  Land, 

and  from  all  parts  beneath  the  Sun; 
Of  wonders  great  we  understand, 

which  by  the  Lord  on  high  are  done. 



3  Yet  few  doth  lay  it  unto  heart, 

nor  to  themselves  the  same  apply, 
Or  from  their  sins  strive  to  depart, 

though  threatn'd  judgements  are  so  nigh. 

4  But  at  the  same  they  make  a  scofF, 

which  are  for  warnings  dayly  sent, 
To  tell  them  they  shall  be  cut  off, 
except  they  of  their  sins  repent. 

5  'Tis  known  that  pride,  and  drunkeness, 

and  swearing,  doth  so  much  abound. 
Men  are  so  bent  to  wickedness, 
that  soul  and  body  they  confound. 

6  Which  makes  the  Lord  above  to  send 

such  signs  our  spirits  to  abate; 

That  we  our  lives  may  all  amend, 

by  what  hath  happened  of  late. 

7  Near  unto  Dole  in  firtile  France^ 

a  wonder  strange  was  lately  seen, 
Which  doth  fames  Trumpet  so  advance, 
because  the  like  hath  never  been. 

8  Great  multitudes  of  Birds  appear'd, 

one  morning  being  clear  and  fair. 
The  like  whereof  was  never  heard, 
for  why  they  darkned  all  the  ayr. 

Cfje  geconli  ^art,  to  tfje  game  l^une. 

9  "  I  ^He  people  stood  amaz'd  to  see, 

-L    that  wondrous  sight  which  did  appear. 
Or  what  the  sad  event  might  be, 

why  such  strange  Fowls  was  gathered  there. 

lo    For  sometimes  they  were  seen  to  fight, 
and  skirmish  in  confused  wise, 
To  tug  and  pull,  to  claw  and  bite, 

sometimes  to  fall,  and  sometimes  rise. 

163  L2 


11  At  length  as  It  were  by  consent, 

into  two  parties  they  devide; 
As  if  it  were  two  Armies  bent, 
to  fight  it  out  on  either  side. 

12  And  then  with  fearful  hideous  cries, 

each  party  did  the  other  dare, 
The  like  was  never  seen  with  eyes, 
how  they  proclaimed  open  war. 

1 3  At  last  each  other  did  engage, 

with  fury  great  on  either  side, 
Both  parties  being  in  a  rage, 

like  two  brave  armies  in  their  pride. 

14  Most  fiercely  they  did  fight  it  out, 

whilst  thousands  to  the  ground  did  fall; 
They  were  so  furious  and  so  stout, 
they  freely  ventured  life  and  all. 

1 5  Their  bodies  mangled,  rent,  and  torn, 

upon  the  earth  most  thick  did  lye, 
So  that  the  child  that's  yet  unborn; 
may  wonder  at  this  prodigy. 

1 6  At  length  their  forces  being  spent, 

those  that  were  left,  away  did  flie. 
But  whence  they  came,  or  whither  went, 
there's  no  one  ever  could  descry. 

1 7  These  birds  which  did  the  battle  fight, 

were  of  a  hundred  sundry  sorts, 
Of  several  colours  and  of  shape, 
as  doth  appear  by  all  reports. 

1 8  The  greatest  of  their  bodies  were, 

of  four  or  five  pounds  weight  each  one; 
As  to  the  people  did  appear, 

which  view'd  them  over  as  'tis  known. 




1 9  Their  claws  like  those  of  Indian  hens, 

their  crooked  nibs,  like  Parrots  just; 
Their  feathers  of  an  Ash  colour, 
if  we  may  the  relation  trust. 

20  Five  hundred  paces,  as  'tis  said, 

of  ground  were  covered  with  the  dead, 
Unto  the  height  of  any  man, 

besides  some  thousands  scattered. 

2 1  The  people  being  sore  afraid, 

their  bodies  should  infect  the  air, 
Sent  Pioneers  to  bury  them, 

which  is  a  thing  most  strange  and  rare. 

22  Thus  was  this  bloody  combate  past, 

within  the  sight  of  many  a  one; 
Who  at  the  wonder  stood  agast, 

for  to  behold  what  there  was  shown. 

23  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  same, 

there's  none  doth  know  but  God  above, 
Then  let  us  fear  his  holy  name, 

and  live  in  concord,  peace  and  love. 

24  For  cruel  wars,  and  bloody  strife, 

doth  cause  great  ruine  at  the  last: 
Then  let  us  ad  a  holv  life, 

and  pardon  crave^  for  what  is  past. 

Printed  for  F.  Coles,  T.  Fere,  J.  Wright,  and  J.  Clarke. 

1  Text  rave. 


T'he  back's  complaint 

Pepys,  I,  446,  B.L.,  five  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

"The  backes  complaint  for  the  bellyes  wronge"  was  licensed  to  Cuth- 
bert  Wright  on  July  10,  1622,  and,  again,  on  July  18,  1623  (Arber's 
Transcript,  iv,  74,  loi).  Edward  Culter  appears  to  be  unknown  save  by 
this  one  production.  Professor  Kittredge  suggests  a  comparison  with  "The 
Back  and  the  Belly"  in  Songs.  By  Thomas  Hudson,  London,  1820,  pp. 
9-ro  (Second  Collection),  which  begins: 

A  story  I'm  going  to  tell  ye, 
Which  if  you'll  attend  to,  you'll  hear  in  a  crack; 

'Tis  about  a  man's  hungry  belly 
Conversing  along  with  his  back. 

^  pleasant  neto  ^ong, 

^t  tfjc  bacfees  complaint,  for  bellies!  tnrong : 

(J^r  a  fartoell  to  goob  fellotosibip. 

To  the  tune  of  A,  B,  C. 

I     /^"^  Ood  fellowes  all  to  you  I  send, 
Vji"  These  verses  which  in  loue  I  pend: 
Desiring  you  will  compasse  keepe, 
and  bid  farwell  good  fellowship. 

1    I  once  did  beare  a  good  fellowes  name, 
And  still  am  counted  for  the  same: 
But  now  my  vow  is  ingaged  deepe, 
to  bid  farwell  good  fellowship. 

3    I  haue  beene  of  that  sett  so  long, 

Till  backe  complaines  of  bellies  wrong: 
With  great  exclaimes  in  euery  street, 
to  make  me  leaue  good  fellowship. 



4  Me  thinkes  I  oft  doe  heare  it  say, 
Mongst  drunkards  thou  consum'd  away: 
Thy  monny  memory  and  witt, 

all  wasted  by  good  fellow  shi-p, 

5  Of  me  thou  takest  but  little  care, 
Though  bellies  full  yet  backe  is  bare: 
And  frostie  winter  will  thee  nipe, 

vnles  thou  leaue  good  fellowship. 

6  Thou  thinkest  good  fellowes  be  thy  friends 
And  what  thou  hast  on  them  thou  spends : 
What  thou  by  worke  gainst  all  ye  weeke, 

comsumeth  by  good  fellowship. 

7  But  when  that  all  thy  money  is  gone, 
And  score  nor  credit  thou  hast  none: 
These  friends  from  thee  away  will  slipe, 

and  farewell  all  good  fellowship. 

8  When  being  gon,  at  thee  they'l  laugh, 
Tis  bad  to  trust  a  broaken  staffe: 
For  feare  thou  fall  in  danger  deepe, 

giue  ouer  in  time  good  fellowship. 

9  For  dayly  doth  attend  the  same, 
Too  sisters,  call'd  begery,  and  shame: 
Whose  hands  &  hearts  full  fast  are  knit, 

and  ioyned  to  good  fellowship. 

10  Besides  deseases  that  doth  flow. 
From  drunkennes  as  many  know: 
Who  to  their  smart,  haue  felt  the  whipe 

that  followeth  good  fellowship. 

1 1  Surfetes,  dropsies,  and  diuers  paines, 
Ach  of  the  head,  breach  of  the  braines: 
Like  festred  fistolles,  foule  and  deepe, 

attendeth  on  good  fellowship. 



12    Ten  thousand  misseries  alacke,  « 

Fall's  both  on  bodie  and  on  backe: 
As  ancient  writters,  large  haue  write, 
to  warne  vs  from  good  fellowship, 

Cfje  Seconti  part,  tajfj^rein  is!  beclareli, 

Cfje  tiacfeesi  complaint,  fjatf)  tfje  bellie  reformeb : 

Co  bib  fartnell  goob  feUotas^tlip-   t^o  tiie  siame  tune. 


THis  sad  complaint  when  I  did  heare  i 

Vewing  my  back,  I  see  it  was  beare;  1 

And  cheifest  cause  I  knew  of  it, 
was,  keeping  oi  good  fellowship. 

14  Being  much  moued  at  the  same, 
A  solemne  oath  then  did  I  frame: 
This  hainious  wrong,  for  to  aquite, 

to  bid  farwell  good  fellowship, 

1 5  And  therefore  here  I  bid  farwell. 
To  that  which  once  I  lou'd  to  well  : 
Henceforth  I  will  in  compasse  keepe, 

therefore  farwell  good  fellowship. 

16  Farwell  all  such  as  take  delight, 

To  drinke  and  gousell  day  and  night: 
Their  sole  sicke  healths,  &  healthles  whiff 
and  causes  the  same  good  fellowship . 

1 7  Farwell  all  such  that  dayly  vse, 
Themselues  and  others  to  abuse: 
Intising  all  that  they  do  meete, 

with  them  to  keepe  good  fellowship. 

1 8  Farwell  all  such  that  well  are  knowne. 
To  haue  a  charge  to  keepe  at  home: 
As  wife,  and  child,  yet  from  them  flitt 

and  fly  out  to  good  fellowship, 



19  Farwell  good  fellowes  more  and  lesse, 
No  tongue  is  able  to  expresse, 

The  wofull  wants  that  dayly  hitte, 
on  them  that  keepe  good  fellowship. 

20  Some  that  were  famous  throw  all  parts, 
For  workmanship  and  skill  in  Arts: 
Hath  beggery  cought  vpon  the  hippe, 

for  keeping  o{  good  fellowship. 

2 1  Some  that  haue  had  possessions  store, 
Lands,  goods,  and  cattell,  few  had  more: 
But  lands,  &  goods,  oxe,  horse,  and  sheepe, 

were  wasted  by  good  fellowship. 

11    Many  examples  are  daylv  seene. 

Of  such  that  haue  good  fellowes  beene, 
Bacchus  braue  souldiers,  stout  and  stiffe, 
which  now  lament  good  fellowship. 

23  And  to  conclud  the  sin  is  such. 

The  wise  man  sayes,  none  shall  be  ritch 
Except  he  shun  that  bitter  sweete, 
which  drunkards  call,  good  fellowship. 

24  Then  learne  this  vice  for  to  refraine, 
The  onely  cause  of  griefe  and  paine: 
Least  yee  like  me  in  sorrow  sit, 

lamenting  oi  good  fellowship. 


Per  me  Edward  Culter. 
Printed  at  London  by  W.I. 



A  new-year*  s  gift  for  the  Pope 

Pepys,  I,  62.  Only  half  of  the  sheet,  containing  Part  I  of  the  ballad,  is 
preserved.  This  half  itself  is  badly  mutilated.  There  is,  accordingly,  no 
way  of  determining  the  author's  or  the  printer's  name.  The  first  part  is  in 
B.L.  It  has  two  columns  and  one  very  large  woodcut,  the  "emblem"  re- 
ferred to  in  stanza  i.  The  date  of  the  ballad  is  perhaps  after  May  6,  1624, 
when  James  I  issued  his  last  proclamation  against  Jesuits  and  seminary 
priests.  For  this  proclamation  and  for  two  other  ballads  (one  the  work  of 
Martin  Parker)  in  which  it  is  celebrated,  see  my  Old  English  Ballads 
(Cambridge  University  Press,  1920),  pp.  1 84-195.  The  music  for  Thomas, 
you  cannot  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  337,  and  the  words  are 
printed  in  Bishop  Percy's  Folio  Manuscript.  Loose  and  Humorous  Songs, 
p.  116. 

^  iOieto=j>eeresi=sift  for  tije  ^ope. 

Come  gee  tfje  bifference  plainlp  trecibetr,  bettoeene 

Eruttj  anti  Jfalsiijooin. 

i0ot  all  tije  ^opes;  ^rinfeetg,  tDfjict)  ^ttxt  are  brougfjt  fortlj. 
Can  tiallance  tfje  illible  for  tDeigfjt,  anti  true  toortf) : 
gour  Pells;,  Peati£(  anti  Crosigesi,  pou  siee  toill  not  boo't, 
0x  pull  botone  pour  ^cale,  tDiti)  tf)e  Btuell  to  boot. 

To  the  Tune  of,  Thomas,  you  cannot,  l^c. 

I      ALl  you  that  desirous  are  to  behold 

■l\.  the  difference  twixt  falshood  and  faith, 
Marke  well  this  Emblem,  one  piece  of  pure  gold, 

a  Cart-load  of  false  Coyne  outwayeth. 
Then  wisely  consider  and  beare  in  your  mind. 
Though  Sathans  Instruments  true  faith  to  blind, 
A  thousand  deuises  dayly  doe  find: 

Tet  all  is  in  vaine,  they  cannot.^  they  cannot^ 

Tet  all  is  in  vaine  they  cannot. 



The  [diffjerence  'twixt  Papist  and  Protestant  here, 

you  [h]aue  in  a  moment  debated, 
The  o[n]e  loues  the  Gospell  that  shineth  still  cleare, 

the  other  is  more  subtile-pated, 
He  will  not  be  ruld  by  the  Scriptures  large  scope, 
But  trusts  in  Traditions  deriu'd  from  the  Pope, 
By  which  to  be  sau'd  he  doth  constantly  hope: 

Fond  fooles,  y  are  decerned^  you  cannot^  ^c. 

3  True  Justice,  'gainst  whom  no  falshood  preuailes, 

the  case  for  both  Parties  decideth 
[An]d  here  she  doth  hold  vp  her  vnpartiall  Scales, 

no  fictions  nor  lyes  she  abideth: 
The  Pope  like  a  Martialist  hardy  and  stout, 
[CJomes  marching  in  pompe  with  all  his  braue  rout, 
[To]  win  by  his  multitude  he  makes  no  doubt: 

but  alas  father  Pope  you  cannot^  ifj'c. 

4  Thus  are  these  two  opposites  come  to  the  place, 

where  truth  must  be  proued  by  tryall. 
The  Pope  thinks  with  greatnesse  to  carry  the  grace, 

but  lustice  hath  eyes  to  descry  all : 
The  Scales  are  made  euen,  the  Bible's  in  one. 
Which  is  the  true  meanes  of  Saluation  alone, 
They  striuing  to  passe  it,  doe  striue  till  they  grone : 

Tet  all  is  in  vaine,  they  cannot^  ^c. 

5  The  Pope  seeing  he  must  be  tride  by  the  Bible, 

did  seeke  to  orecome  it  by  might. 
He  tride  by  all  meanes  that  for  him  was  possible; 

but  all  he  could  bring  was  too  light: 
Their  Masses  and  Dirges,  with  such  superstitions. 
Decrees  and  Decretals,  with  other  Traditions, 
The  golden  Legend  with  late  new  additions: 

Yet  all  is  in  vaine^  they  cannot^  i^c. 



6    Thus  stil  the  pure  Gospell  gainst  falshood  preuailes, 

which  when  the  proud  Prelate  did  see, 
A  Cart-load  of  Trinkets  he  puts  in  the  Scales, 

and  thrust  it  as  full  as  might  be, 
With  great  wooden  Crosses  and  many  great  babies, 
The  Pictures  and  Saints  of  a  bevy^  of  Ladies, 
Who  dayly  are  worshipped  by  these  grand  Rabbles: 

Tet  still  father  Pope  you  cannot^  &'c. 

Yet  still  father  Pope  \f^c?^  | 

1  Text  bemy.  Perhaps  the  line  should  read  With  Pictures  of  Saints  and 
a  bev)'  of  Ladies. 



T'he  soldier* s  farewell 

Pepys,  IV,  42.  There  is  a  printed  copy  also  in  the  collection  of  the  Earl 
of  Crawford  {Catalogue  of  English  Ballads,  No.  793)-  B.L.,  one  woodcut, 
two  columns.  The  Pepys  copy  of  this  jig  is  printed  on  a  broadside  with 
another  ballad  called  "A  Pleasant  Song  Made  by  a  Soldier,"  beginning 
"In  summer  time  when  Phoebus'  rays"  and  included  in  the  Roxburghe 
Ballads,  VI,  284.  Both  ballads  were  registered  at  Stationers'  Hall  on 
December  14,  1624,  as  "Margarett,  my  sweetest"  and  "In  summer  time" 
(Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  131),  though  the  latter  was  originally  licensed  on 
April  24,  1588  {ibid.  11,  488).  There  is  another  copy  of  "The  Soldier's 
Farewell,"  preserved  under  the  significant  title  of  "A  ligge,"  in  the  Perc^ 
Folio  Manuscript  (ed.  Hales  and  Furnivall,  11,  355).  That  copy  was  evi- 
dently made  from  memory:  it  has  hardly  a  line  in  which  verbal  changes, 
all  without  significance,  are  not  made,  and  is  inferior  in  every  way  to  the 
printed  sheet. 

Ballads  on  this  theme — the  cruel  trials  to  which  a  young  woman's  love 
is  put — are  common:  see  the  traditional  ballad  of  "Child  Waters,"  No. 
63,  in  F.  J.  Child's  English  and  Scottish  Popular  Ballads  and  the  notes 
there.  Perhaps  the  author  of  "The  Soldier's  Farewell"  was  influenced 
directly  by  the  beautiful  lyric  of  "The  Nut-Browm  Maid." 

Cfjc  ^oultiiersf  jFaretoel  to  W  lobe. 
Peing  a  dialogue  bettoixt  Thomas  ant>  Margaret. 

To  a  pleasant  new  Tune. 


I     TV  /r  Argaret  my  sweetest,  Margaret  I  must  go.^ 

■^^  Margaret. 

Most  dear  to  me,  that  never  may  be  so : 

T.  Ah,  Fortune  wills  it,  I  cannot  it  deny.^ 

M.  then  know  my  love  your  Margaret  must  dye. 

1  Text  has  a  comma. 


2  T.   Not  for  the  gold  my  Love  that  Croesus  had, 
Would  I  once  see  thy  sweetest  looks  so  sad.^ 
M.  Nor  for  all  that  the  which  my  eye  did  see, 
Would  I  depart  my  sweetest  Love  from  thee. 

3  T.  The  King  commands,  &  I  must  to  the  wars.^ 
M.  Ther's  others  more  enough  may  end  the  jars.^ 
T.   But  I  for  one  commanded  am  to  go, 

And  for  my  life  I  dare  not  once  say  no. 

4  M.  Ah  marry  me,  and  you  shall  stay  at  home, 
Full  thirty  weeks  you  know  that  I  have  gone.^ 
T.  There's  time  enough  another  for  to  take 
He'P  love  thee  well,  and  not  thy  child  forsake. 

5  M.  And  have  I  doted  on  thy  sweetest  face  ? 

and  dost  infringe  that  which  thou  suedst  in  chase.^ 
Thy  faith  I  mean  but  I  will  wend  with  thee.^ 
T.   It  is  too  far  for  Peg  to  go  with  me. 

6  M.  rie  go  with  thee  my  Love  both  night  and  day.^ 
rie  bear  thy  sword,  i'le  run  and  lead  the  way. 

T.  But  we  must  ride,  how  will  you  follow  then. 
Amongst  a  Troop  of  us  thats  Armed  men  } 

7  M.   He  bear  the  Lance,  ile  guide  thy  stirrop  too. 
He  rub  the  horse,  and  more  then  that  ile  do.^ 

T.  But  Margarets  fingers  they  are  all  too  fine. 
To  wait  on  me  when  she  doth  see  me  dine. 


8  Ile  see  you  dine,  ile  wait  still  at  your  back, 
Ile  give  you  wine,  or  any  thing  you  lack. 


But  youl  repine  when  you  shall  see  me  have 
A  dainty  wench  that  is  both  fine  and  brave. 

1  Text  has  a  comma.         ^  No  period  in  the  text.         ^  Text  He  1. 



9    M.   He  love  your  wench,  my  sweetest,  I  do  vow, 
rie  watch  time  when  she  may  pleasure  you. 
T.   But  you  will  grieve  to  see  me  sleep  in  bed, 
And  you  must  wait  still  in  anothers  stead. 

10  M.   rie  watch  my  love  to  see  you  sleep  in  rest. 
And  when  you  sleep  then  I  shall  think  me  blest. 
T.  The  time  will  come  you  must  delivered  be, 
If  in  the  Camp  it  will  discredit  me. 

11  M.   He  go  from  you  before  the  time  shall  be, 
When  all  is  well  my  love  againe  ile  see. 

T.  All  will  not  serve  for  Margaret  must  not  go, 
Then  do  resolve  my  Love,  what  else  to  do. 

1 2  M.   If  nought  wil  serve  why  then  sweet  love  adieu. ^ 
I  needs  must  die,  and  yet  in  dying  true. 

T.  Nay  stay  my  love,  for  I  love  Margaret  well, 
And  here  I  vow  with  Margaret  to  dwell. 

13  M.   Give  me  your  hand,  your  Margaret  livs  again. ^ 
T.   Here  is  my  hand,  ile  never  breed  thy  pain. 

M.   rie  kiss  my  Love  in  token  it  is  so. 

r.  We  will  be  wed,  come  Margaret  let  us  go. 


London,  Printed  for  F.  Coles,  T.  Vere,  and  J.  Wright. 
1  No  period  in  the  text. 




A  dream  of  a  sinner 

Pepys,  I,  39;  11,  7,  B.L.,  one  woodcut,  two  columns.  There  is  also  a 
copy  in  the  Douce  Collection  (11,  200'^),  at  the  Bodleian,  on  the  same 
sheet  with  Sir  Edward  Dyer's  "My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is."  "In 
slumberinge  sleepe"  was  licensed  for  publication  on  December  14,  1624 
(Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  131).  A  similar  production  is  the  ballad  of  "Even 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye"  {Roxburgke  Ballads,  vii,  783). 

Rogero  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  93,  but  has  a  different 
movement  from  that  of  this  ballad.  Nor  does  the  Pepysian  ballad  of  "John 
Spenser"  (No.  45)  or  "The  Poor  Man  Pays  for  All.  To  the  Tune  oi  In 
slumbering  sleep  I  lay'"  {Roxburgke  Ballads,  11,  334)  agree  with  it  in  metre 
or  stanza  form.  To  a  still  different  measure  is  a  ballad  to  the  tune  oi  Rogero 
in  the  Roxburgke  Ballads,  in,  87. 

^  comfortable  neto  iBIallab  of  a  Breame  of  a  dinner, 
being  ijerp  Sore  troubleb  toiti)  tfje  assfawlts!  of  ^atban. 

To  the  tune  of  Rogero. 

1  T  N  slumbring  sleepe  I  lay 
JL  all  night  alone  in  bed, 

A  vision  very  strange 

there  came  into  my  head.^ 

2  Me  thought  the  day  of  doome 

vndoubtedly  was  come, 
And  Christ  himselfe  was  there 
to  iudge  both  all  and  some. 

3  My  selfe  was  sent  for  there 

with  sound  of  Trumpet  shrill. 
Which  said.  All  soules  come  heare 
your  sentence  good  or  ill. 
1  Text  has  a  comma. 





4  I  sate  in  minde  amaz'd, 

at  that  same  sudden  voyce, 
For  in  mine  owne  good  life 
no  whit  I  could  reioyce. 

5  With  panting  brest  I  paus'd 

at  that  same  sudden  sight, 
Not  trusting  to  my  selfe, 

but  to  Christs  mercies  great. 

6  I  was  no  sooner  meant, 

but  Sathan  came,  me  thought^ 
With  him  a  role  full  large 
of  all  my  life  he  brought. 

7  And  laid  before  the  Lord 

how  that  I  was  his  owne, 
And  would  haue  had  me  then, 
my  sinnes  so  great  were  growne. 

8  I  quaking  lay  with  feare, 

and  wist  not  what  to  doe, 
But  in  the  blood  of  Christ 
I  trusted  still  vnto, 

9  Then  said  our  Sauiour  Christ, 

foule  Sathan  end  thy  strife, 
Looke  if  the  sinners  name 
be  in  the  booke  of  life, 

10  If  he  be  entred  there, 

then  must  he  needes  be  blest. 
His  sinnes  be  washt  away, 
his  soule  with  me  shall  rest. 

1 1  Then  Sathan  tooke  the  booke, 

did  leafe  bv  leafe  vnfold. 
And  there  he  found  my  name 
in  letters  limb'd  with  gold. 

177  M 


12  Then  Sathan  sorrowed  much 

at  that  same  sudden  sight. 
And  said  vnto  the  Lord, 

thy  ludgements  are  not  right. 

13  And  thus  our  Sauiour  sweet 

said  to  him  by  and  by, 
Thou,  Sathan,  know'st  full  well 
that  I  for  sinne  did  dye. 

14  Redeeming  all  the  world, 

once  ouerthrowne  by  thee. 
And  so  will  saue  all  such 
as  truly  trust  in  mee. 

1 5  My  mortall  foe  was  wroth, 

that  he  had  lost  his  prey, 
Extreamely  vexed  was, 
and  vanisht  quite  away. 

16  But  I  that  thus  was  bill'd 

within  that  blessed  booke. 
Out  of  my  slumbring  sleepe 
so  ioyfully  awoke. 

1 7  Still  praying  to  the  Lord, 

that  alwayes  sinners  may 
From  Sathan  be  set  free, 
at  the  last  dreadfull  day. 

1 8  That  after  earthly  toyles, 

we  may  heauen  ioyes  attaine. 
Here  learne  to  Hue  to  dye, 
that  we  may  Hue  againe. 

19  Our  noble  royall  King, 

God  grant  him  long  to  raigne. 
To  Hue  in  ioy  and  peace, 
the  Gospell  to  maintaine. 


London  Printed  for  E.  Wright. 


Collins'  conceit 

Pepys,  I,  45  5,  B.L.,  no  woodcuts,  three  columns. 

"Coullins  Conceits"  was  registered  for  publication  on  December  14, 
1624  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  132).  One  Collins  was  evidently  the  author 
of  the  ballad:  he  enumerates  a  great  number  of  "ifs,"  the  observance  of 
which  should,  and  would,  result  in  pious,  godly  living.  Perhaps  he  was 
also  the  author  of  "Collins  and  the  Devil,"  a  ballad  registered  by  Edward 
Blackmore  on  December  14,  1632  {ibid.  p.  289),  and,  though  now  lost, 
known  to  Ditty,  the  ballad-singer  in  the  London  Chanticleers,  1659  (Dods- 
ley-Hazlitt's  Old  Plays,  xii,  329),  who  cried  it  among  his  wares.  Wigmore's 
Galliard  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  242. 

^  mosit  excellent  Bittp,  calleti  Coilim  Conceit. 

To  the  tune  of  Wigmores  Gallard. 

1  /^"^Onceits  of  sundry  sorts  there  are, 
V-/  but  this  Conceit  of  mine, 

Doth  wish  all  men  to  haue  a  care, 

to  Hue  by  wisedomes  line. 
In  my  conceit  if  men  would  looke, 

where  sacred  vertues  dwell,'^ 
And  Hue  according  to  Gods  Booke, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

2  If  wisedome  were  once  made  our  guide, 

she  would  direct  vs  right. 
Where  now  we  daily  slip  aside, 

for  want  of  wisdomes  light. 
If  we  had  faith,  we  need  not  feare 

the  Deuill  nor  powers  of  Hell  : 
If  godly  faith  our  Anchor^  were, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 
^  Text  has  a  period.  -  Text  Auchor. 

179  M2 


3  If  we  could  learne  to  loue  the  Lord, 

with  an  vnfayned  loue, 
And  willingly  obey  his  Word, 

as  duty  doth  vs  moue: 
If  we  would  leaue  our  wickednesse, 

wherein  we  doe  excell, 
And  giue  our  mindes  to  godlines, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

4  If  people  did  not  goe  to  Church, 

onely  for  fashion  sake: 
If  one  would  not  another  lurch, 

nor  yet  bad  courses  take: 
If  all  those  that  seeme  so  pure, 

would  not  by  false  weights  sell, 
But  iustly  deale,  we  might  be  sure 

that  all  things  should  be  well. 

5  If  men  would  not,  to  purchase  gain, 

falsly  themselues  forsweare, 
Nor  take  the  name  of  God  in  vaine, 

but  Hue  in  dread  and  feare: 
If  all  hypocrisie  were  left, 

which  daily  doth  excell : 
If  we  were  not  of  zeale  bereft, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

6  If  conscience  were  not  ouerstrain'd, 

for  to  oppresse  the  weake : 
If  subtill  mates  were  not  maintain'd, 

if  none  would  promise  breake: 
If  spitefull  men  did  not  delight, 

in  wrangling  suites  to  dwell : 
If  one  kept  not  anothers  wife, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

7  If  no  man  would  false  witnesse  bear 

for  lucre  or  for  loue: 
If  no  contentious  people  were 
disquiet  for  to  moue: 



If  none  would  hurt  the  innocent, 

nor  yet  for  money  sell 
Anothers  life,  twere  time  well  spent, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

8  If  bloody  murthering  would  cease, 

which  doth  for  vengeance  cry : 
If  euery  man  would  seeke  for  peace, 

and  Hue  contentedly: 
If  drunkennesse  and  gluttony, 

that  doth  so  much  excell : 
If  none  would  practise  cruelty, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

9  If  Parents  would  instruction  vse, 

and  youth  in  time  correct: 
Would  youth  good  counsell  not  refuse  ,i 

but  thereto  haue  respect: 
If  seruants  were  obedient 

to  those  with  whome  they  dwell,  ^ 
If  they  were  quicke  and  diligent, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

10  If  fornication  were  not  vs'd, 

nor  foule  adultery: 
In  euery  place  were  bribes  refus'd, 

and  partiality: 
If  no  man  would  his  neighbour  wrong 

which  far  or  neere  him  dwell. 
Nor  stain  their  credits  with  his  toug, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

11  If  scolding  queanes  were  punished, 

did  witches  hang  or  burne: 
If  bawds  and  whores  not  suffered, 
some  had  a  blessed  turne: 

^   Text  note  rfuse.  ^  No  comma  in  the  text. 



If  we  did  not  delight  to  sit 

in  sins  darke  shadow  Cell : 
If  godly  wisedome  gouernd  wit, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

12  If  crafty  heads  wold  once  grow  scant, 

which  scrape  and  claw  for  gaine. 
The  poore  and  needy  soules  that  want 

would  not  so  much  complaine. 
If  trust  might  lye  safe  in  his  bed, 

if  truth  might  buy  and  sell. 
If  double  dealing  once  were  dead, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

1 3  If  cunning  Cutpurses  and  Theeues, 

were  cleane  out  of  the  way. 
Then  some  false  knaues  that  true  men  grieue 

should  not  remaine  this  day. 
If  swearing  were  once  out  of  vre, 

that  none  of  oathes  could  tell : 
If  lyes  were  left,  we  might  be  sure, 

that  all  things  would  be  well. 

14  If  carry-tales,  that  breed  debate, 

were  hid  from  Man  and  Wife: 
Then  surely  each  man  with  his  mate, 

might  lead  a  quiet  life: 
If  neighbors  would  like  friends  agree 

and  loue  among  vs  dwell : 
If  pride  might  once  expelled  be, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

15  If  Landlords  would  leaue  racking  rent, 

if  vsurie  would  cease: 
If  we  had  not  great  male-content, 

this  Land  might  Hue  in  peace. 
If  Justice  would  not  swerue  at  all, 

if  malice  would  not  swell: 
Might  high  aspiring  climbers  fall, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 



1 6  If  rash  and  hasty  people  would 

to  patience  giue  place: 
If  wrath  were  left,  a  number  would 

not  be  so  void  of  grace  : 
If  hatred  were  abandoned, 

were  enuie  driuen  to  Hell : 
If  Idlenesse  were  punished, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

17  If  deedes  of  charity  were  vs'd,^ 

if  poore  men  were  not  proud, 
If  Officers  were  not  abus'd, 

if  dice  were  not  allow'd: 
If  Lawyers  would  not  suits  prolong, 

but  to  their  Clients  tell 
How  cases  stand,  if  right  or  wrong, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

18  If  flattering  pick-thanks  were  expeld 

out  of  the  Common-wealth : 
If  men  a  moderate  dyet  held, 

they  might  Hue  long  in  health: 
If  hel-bred  couetousnesse  and  pride 

did  not  amongst  vs  dwell : 
If  rich  men  were  not  mercilesse, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

19  If  poore  mens  states  were  pittied, 

which  doe  in  prison  lye: 
If  sick  folke  were  much  comforted, 

in  their  necessitie: 
If  Trades-men  did  not  vse  deceit, 

if  fraud  did  not  excell : 
Did  wicked  men  practise  no  sleights, 

then  all  things  should  be  well. 

1  Text  has  a  period. 


20    If  these  false  traitors  were  found  out, 

which  would  this  Realme  betray, 
Then  should  all  England  round  about, 

stand  at  a  better  stay. 
That  wicked  vices  may  decay, 

and  vertue  beare  the  bell, 
To  God  let  vs  most  humbly  pray, 

and  so  we  shall  doe  well. 

Printed  at  London  for  H.  Gosson. 


A  passing  bell  tolling 

Wood  276  B  (103),  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns.  The  sheet  is 
badly  mutilated,  five  stanzas  being,  in  whole  or  in  part,  torn  off.  Mutilated 
words  and  lines  are  filled  in  as  far  as  possible  between  square  brackets. 

The  ballad,  doleful  as  it  is,  is  worth  reprinting,  for  it  is  a  copy,  appar- 
ently unique,  of  the  ballads  called  "A  passinge  bell  to  call  us  to  minde 
&c,"  registered  by  John  Allde  on  October  30,  1582,  and  "Harke  man 
what  I  thi  God,"  registered  by  Francis  Coles  and  others  on  December  14, 
1624  (Arber's  Transcript,  11,  416;  iv,  131).  Neither  of  these  entries  has 
hitherto  been  identified.  Wood's  copy  is  probably  from  the  1624  edition. 
On  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  229;  11,  775. 

in  pafisiins  ?^eU  totolms  to  call  us;  to  mintj, 
d^ur  time  ebill  sipenbins,  a  plague  noto  toe  finti : 
OTiijicf)  plague  if  it  cease  not  is!  for  our  siin, 
%\stxt\syct  to  repent  notu  let  usf  begin. 

To  the  tune  of  Triumph  and  loy. 

1  T  TArk  man  what  I  thy  God  shal  speak, 
1  1  My  Laws  thou  daily  seem'st  to  break 

What  though  the  flesh  of  man  be  weake, 

yet  I  thy  God  will  love  thee: 
Give  eare  I  say  to  leremie^ 
And  learne  with  him  to  live  and  die, 
The  Scriptures  they  doe  testifie, 

that  I  God  doe  love  thee. 

2  First  I  thee  fram'd  of  earth  and  clay, 
And  made  all  things  thee  to  obey, 

The  Sun,  the  Moone,  the  Night  and  day, 
because  that  I  doe  love  thee: 



I  gave  thee  strength  to  terrlfie 
The  beasts  and  foules  that  multiply, 
Yet  this  will  not  thee  satisfie, 

but  thou  wilt  seeme  to  move  me. 

3  I  made  the^  King  of  Sea  and  Land, 
I  made  each  subject  to  thy  hand, 

The  Heaven,  the  Ayre,  the  Earth  &  Sand, 

because  that  I  did  love  thee : 
I  made  thee  like  to  Christ  my  Son, 
In  hope  thy  love  for  to  have  won, 
I  charg'd  thee  Satans  wyles  to  shun, 

yet  thou  dost  daily  move  me. 

4  I  gave  thee  wit,  with  wisedome  rife. 
To  rule  aright  while  thou  hast  life, 

I  gave  thee  Evah  to  thy  wife, 

because  that  I  did  love  thee: 
I  placed  thee  in  Paradice^, 
Yet  fleshly  pride  did  thee  entice, 
Thou  would  not  follow  my  advice, 

but  thou  didst  daily  move  me. 

5  Yet  mercy  did  I  take  on  thee. 
My  Son  I  sent  to  set  thee  free,^ 

because  that  I  did  love  [thee.] 
I  lent  thee  earth  wherein  to  joy, 
The  fruits  of  all  things  to  imploy, 
I  fostred  thee  from  all  annoy, 

yet  daily  thou  dost  move  me. 

6  Remember  man  why  Christ  was  borne. 
He  scourged  was  and  laught  to  scorne, 
To  save  thee  man  that  was  forlorne, 

because  that  I  did  love  thee: 
He  taught  you  how  to  fast  and  pray. 
That  Satan  might  be  driven  away, 
I  meane  you  belly-gods  I  say, 

for  you  doe  daily  move  me. 
^  I.e.  thee.  ^  Text  Pardaice.  ^  The  printer  omitted  a  line  here. 



7    Christ  fasted  forty  daies  we  know, 
All  fleshly  lusts  to  overthrow, 
Though  you  be  weak,  your  good  will  show 

so  shall  I  say  you  love  me : 
But  if  you  doe  not  fast  and  pray. 
The  wiles  of  Satan  will  lead  you  away, 
To  desolation  for  ever  and  aye, 

where  you  no  more  shall  move  me. 

8      There  shall  you  languish  still  and  cry. 
Because  the  truth  you  doe  defie, 
For  ever  living  and  never  die, 

because  you  doe  not  love  me : 
Take  heed  therefore  of  Bacchus  cheare, 
Let  Dives  fall  put  thee  in  feare. 
Else  shall  you  die  when  I  appeare, 

where  you  no  more  shall  move  me.^ 

W^t  fieconb  part,  Co  tfje  sfame  tune. 

9  T3Emember  if  thou  Heaven  wilt  win, 
XV  How  Sodom  I  did  sinke  for  sinne 
All  saving  a  few  that  were  therein, 

because  they  still  did  move  me: 
I  drown'd  the  world  also  before, 
I  promised  then  to  doe  no  more. 
If  that  your  sins  you  will  deplore, 

and  turne  anew  to  love  me. 

lo    But  if  you  daily  me  provoke. 

And  draw  a  worse  plague  to  your  yoke, 
Your  sins  deserve  a  greater  stroke, 

because  you  daily  move  me. 
For  if  that  Sodome  ever  was, 
A  greater  Sodome  now  doth  passe. 
All  Christian  hearts  may  cry  alas, 

if  that  thou  [still  doth  move  me.]^ 

^   Only  a  few  words  of  the  stanza  that  followed  this  now  remain. 
^  Two  entire  stanzas  are  here  torn  away. 



1 1  Thinke  on  the  fall  of  Ninivie 
And  how  the  Israelites  went  awry. 
For  usurie  Jesus  did  defie 

the  Jewes,  because  they  move  me : 
For  in  ludah  none  was  righteous  found 
But  now  in  usury  you  abound, 
My  plagues  shall  beat  you  to  the  ground,^ 

because  you  doe  not  love  me: 

12  Therefore  give  eare,  and  marke  me  well, 
The  Scriptures  they  doe  plainely  tell, 
That  greedy  Carles  will  burne  in  hell, 

because  they  still  doe  move  me: 
For  banqueting  and  belly  cheare, 
Doth  make  thee  man  to  live  in  feare. 
The  poore  they  pinch,  as  doth  appeare, 

and  yet  you  say  you  love  me. 

13  The  Scriptures  read  and  understand, 
That  Christ^  did  sell  no  lease  of  Land, 
But  greedy  Satan  breakes  the  band: 

that  brotherlie  love  should  move  ye: 
Thinke  well  what  will  become  of  you. 
When  you  despise  my  Gospell  true. 
You  passe  the  Ninivite,  Turke  and  Jew; 

and  yet  you  say  you  love  me. 

14  Read  over  leremy  Once  againe, 
Then  shall  you  see  these  vices  plaine. 
Your  Heathenish  customes  are  but  vaine 

in  which  you  daily  move  me. 
You  cog,  you  sweare,  you  foist  forth  lies. 
Against  the  which  my  Preachers  cries. 
Amend,  repent,  lift  up  your  eyes 

and  turne  anew  to  love  me. 

15  So  shall  I  blot  out  all  thy  sin. 

If  to  repent  you  doe  b[egin].  .  .^ 

1  Text  has  a  period.  ^  Text  Chist. 

*  Two  stanzas  and  the  colophon  are  here  torn  away. 



A  Statute  for  swearers 

Pepys,  I,  214,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 
The  date  of  this  interesting  ballad  is  1624.  By  an  Act  of  3  James  I 
profane  or  jesting  use  of  the  name  of  the  Deity  in  stage-plays  had  been 
prohibited  under  penalty  of  a  fine  of  ;^io.  The  Act  of  21  James  I,  ch. 
20,  referred  to  in  the  ballad,  enacted  "by  the  authority  of  this  present  Par- 
liament, That  no  person  or  persons  shall  from  henceforth  profanely  Swear 
or  Curse"  under  penalty  of  a  fine  of  \zd.  (For  striking  illustrations  of  the 
high  value  set  on  a  shilling  by  Jacobeans  see  Nos.  13,  60,  66,  73.)  Fines 
incurred  under  this  Act  were  to  be  used  for  the  relief  of  the  poor.  The  Act 
provided,  further,  that  if  the  fine  were  not  paid,  the  offender  was,  if  over 
twelve  years  of  age,  to  be  set  m  the  stocks  for  three  hours;  if  under  twelve, 
to  be  whipped  by  the  Constable,  his  Master,  or  his  parents.  It  was  to 
continue  "until  the  end  of  the  first  session  of  the  next  Parhament,  and  no 
longer."  In  Ben  Jonson's  Masque  of  Owls  (1624),  the  Sixth  Owl  is  de- 
scribed as  a  bird 

Who  since  the  Act  against  Swearing 

(The  tale's  worth  your  hearing) 

In  this  short  time's  growth. 

Hath  at  twelve-pence  an  oath, 

For  that,  I  take  it,  is  the  rate. 

Sworn  himself  out  of  his  estate. 

In  1645  Oliver  Cromwell  wrote  with  pride  of  his  regiment  of  Ironsides: 
"Not  a  man  swears  but  he  pays  his  twelve  pence."  The  ballad  refers  also 
to  the  Act  for  the  Repressing  of  Drunkenness  of  2 1  James  I,  ch.  8,  according 
to  the  provisions  of  which  any  person  proved  to  have  tippled  "in  any  Inne 
Ale  house  or  Victualling  house"  was  to  be  fined  five  shillings. 

The  tune  (used  also  in  No.  70)  comes  from  the  refrain  of  a  ballad 
(beginning  "Brave  Mars  begins  to  rouse"),  the  words  and  music  of  which 
are  preserved  only  in  John  Forbes's  Cantus,  Songs  and  Fancies  (1661, 
Song  XXXVII).  In  James  Shirley's  Love  Tricks,  1625,  11,  i,  Bubulcus 
replies  to  the  statement  that  ballads  are  "whipping-post,  tinkerly  stuff": 
"For  all  that,  I  have  read  good  stuff  sometimes,  especially  in  your  fighting 
ballads:  When  cannons  are  roaring  and  bullets  are  flying,  Is'c."  This  quota- 
tion has  not  hitherto  been  explained. 



^  Statute  for  ^toearersi  anti  IBvunkavhsi, 

Jforsiafee  noto  pour  foUiesi,  pour  tioofee  cannot  fiaue  j»ou, 
jfor  if  pou  sitoeare  anli  ht  brunfee,  tlje  ^tocke£S  toiU  fjaue 


To  the  tune  of  When  Canons  are  roaring. 

I    X/'Ou  that  in  wicked  wayes 
A    long  time  haue  ranged; 
Now  must  be  with  the  times; 

turned  and  changed. 
The  Realmes  carefull  keepers 

such  Lawes  haue  ordained, 
By  which  from  your  vices  base, 

you  must  be  weaned. 
Let  high  and  low,  rich  and  poore, 

striue  for  to  mend  all; 




And  forbeare  for  to  sweare, 
curse,  drinke,  and  spend  all: 

Forsake  now  your  follies^ 
your  booke^  cannot  saue  you: 

For  if  you  sweare  and  be  drunke^ 
the  Stockes  will  haue  you. 

1    You  that  doe  swim  in  silkes, 

in  gold  and  brauery; 
Thinke  not,  your  gawdy  clothes 

can  hide  your  knauery: 
You  that  consume  your  states, 

by  debosht  courses; 
Riding  the  Turnbole  lades, 

like  hackney  horses: 
Banish  your  new  base  trickes, 

your  drinking  and  drabbing, 
Your  cursing,  your  swearing, 

your  roring  and  stabbing: 
Forsake  now  your  follies., 

your  booke  cannot  saue  you: 
For  if  you  sweare  and  be  drunke^ 

the  Stockes  will  haue  you. 

You  that  thinke,  he's  no  man 

of  reputation. 
That  cannot  sweare  and  be  drunke, 

and  do't  in  fashion; 
You  that  doe  thinke  your  selues 

ne're  better  graced; 
Then  when  'mongst  drunkards  you 

are  set  and  placed: 
You  that  do  brag,  and  say, 

your  braines  are  stronger, 

1  An  allusion  to  "benefit  of  clergy." 


Then  shallow  pates,  who  at  pots 

cannot  hold  longer. 
Forsake  now  your  jollies 

your  booke  cannot  saue  you: 
For  if  you  sweare  and  be  drunke, 

the  stockes  will  haue  you. 

4  You  that  cry,  Kergo,  boyes, 

hang  vp  all  sorrowe; 
Drinke  stiffe,  our  Landlord  shall 

stay  till  to  morrow: 
Then  reeling  out  of  dores 

into  the  kennell; 
Yet  sweare,  you  sweeter  smell 

then  does  the  Fennell: 
You  that  lie  bathing 

from  morning  till  twilight, 
In  Tauerne  and  Tipling  house, 

to  cleare  the  eye-sight. 
Forsake  now  your  follies, 

your  booke  cannot  saue  you: 
For  if  you  sweare  and  be  drunke, 

the  Stockes  will  haue  you, 

5  You  that  will  whoot  at  him, 

as  at  some  wonder. 
That  will  not  rap  out  othes 

lowd  as  the  Thunder; 
You  that  familiarly 

vse  in  your  talking, 
Prophanely  for  to  sweare, 

sitting  or  walking: 
And  you  that  deeme  them  not 

men  of  good  fashion; 
That  has  not  learnt  the  rules 

of  Prophanation. 
Forsake  now  your  follies, 

your  booke  cannot  saue  you, 
For  if  you  sweare  and  be  drunke, 

the  Stockes  will  haue  you. 


^fje  attonh  S^avt  Co  rtje  game  tune. 

Be  warned  by  me  you  Swearers  and  Drunkards  for 
I  first  broke  the  Statute. 


YOu  that  sweale  out  your  life 
in  beastly  drinking; 
Vntill  your  bodies 

and  breaths  be  stinking: 
You  that  sit  sucking  still 

at  the  strong  barrell, 
Till  into  tatters  rent 

turnes  your  apparell: 
You  that  by  guzling 

transforme  your  best  features, 
Changing  your  selues  from  men, 

to  swinish  creatures: 
Forsake  now  your  jollies^ 

your  booke  cannot  saue  you: 
For  ij you  sweare  and  be  drunke, 

the  stockes  will  haue  you. 



7  You  that  doe  scorne  abroad 

for  to  be  scanting, 
Though  to  your  wife  at  home, 

bread  may  be  wanting. 
And  your  poore  children  eke 

Hkely  to  perish: 
Whilst  you  with  Taplash  strong 

your  corps  doe  cherish: 
Crying  still,  let  them  starue, 

tush,  'tis  no  matter. 
With  drinke  ile  stuffe  my  guts, 

let  them  drinke  water. 
Forsake  now  your  follies^ 

your  booke  cannot  saue  you: 
For  if  you  s  we  are  and  be  drunke, 

the  Stockes  will  haue  you. 

8  You  that  at  midnight  can 

outsweare  the  watchmen; 
And  braue  a  Constable, 

that  stands  to  catch  men. 
You  that  with  giddie  braines 

by  the  wall  holdeth. 
And  ith'  darke  euery  post 

in  his  armes  foldeth. 
And  you  that  in  the  durt, 

thrust  deepe  your  noses; 
There  sleeping  sweetly  as 

in  beds  of  Roses : 
Forsake  now  your  follies^ 

your  booke  cannot  saue  you: 
For  if  you  sweare  and  be  drunke^ 

the  Stockes  will  haue  you. 

9  You  that  in  dregs  of  drinke 

so  drowne  your  reason; 
That  you  are  loth  to  leaue 
in  timely  season: 



But  drinke  still  following, 

neglect  your  vocation; 
Till  you  haue  nor  meanes  left, 

nor  habitation, 
You  that  will  spend  as  much, 

iust  at  one  sitting; 
As  would  a  weeke  yours  keepe 

with  victuals  fitting, 
Forsake  now  your  jollie^ 

your  booke  cannot  saue  you: 
For  if  you  sweare  and  be  drunke^ 

the  Stockes  will  haue  you. 

lo   You  that  desire  to  dwell 

in  heauen  hereafter, 
Must  not  of  this  deuice 

make  iest  or  laughter  : 
But  must  shake  off  these  crimes, 

with  much  discasting. 
If  you  hope  to  enioy 

life  euerlasting. 
To  honest  men  let  this  be 

sound  admonition, 
To  bewaile  their  past  sinnes 

with  sad  contrition. 
Forsake  now  your  jollies^ 

your  booke  cannot  saue  you: 
For  if  you  sweare  and  be  drunke^ 

the  Stockes  zvill  haue  you. 

Printed  at  London  ^  for  J.T.  and  are  to  be  sold  at  his  shop 

in  Smithfield. 

^  Texi  Londondon. 


N  Z 


A  merry  new  catch  of  all  trades 

Pepys,  I,  164,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns.  The  fourth  line  is  to 
be  repeated  at  the  end  of  each  stanza  as  a  refrain.  Since  the  ballad  was 
printed  by  John  Trundle  it  may  date  about  1624.  The  tune  is  given  in 
Chappell's  Popular  Music,  11,  425. 

^  merrp  neljb  catct  of  all  tlTrabes;. 

To  the  tune  of  The  cleane  Contrary  zvay. 

1  A-'-"-^  Trades  are  not  alike  in  show, 
■l\.  All  Arts  doe  not  agree: 

All  Occupations  gaines  are  small,i 
As  heere  they  all  shall  see, 
As  heere  they  all  shall  see. 

2  The  Courtier  woes,  his  seruant  does, 
Farre  more  then  he  can  answer, 

The  Baker  weighes  with  false  essayes, 

The  Cuckold's  turn'd  a  Monster.  The  Cuck.  &c. 

3  The  Taylor  sowes,  the  Smith  he  blowes, 
The  Tinker  beates  his  pan: 

The  Pewterer  ranke,  cries  tinke  a  tanke  tanke, 
The  Apothecary  ranta  tan  tan.  The  Apoth:  &c. 

4  The  Bricklayer  high  doth  rise  to  flye, 
The  Plummer  oft  doth  melt, 

The  Carpenter  doth  loue  his  rule. 

And  the  Hatmakar  loues  his  felt.   And  the,  &c. 

^  Text  has  a  period, 


5  The  Weauer  thumps,  his  olde  wife  mumps, 
The  Barber  goes  snip  snap, 

The  Butcher  prickes,  the  Tapster  nickes, 
The  Farmer  stops  ap  ap.  The  Farmer,  &c. 

6  The  Curryer  toyles,  and  deales  in  oyles, 
The  Cobler  Hues  by  his  peece: 

The  Chamberlaine  cheates  with  musty  meates, 
And  doth  the  Countrey  fleece.   And  doth,  &c. 

7  The  Carter  whips,  the  Begger  skips, 
The  Beadle  Hues  by  blowes. 

Yet  whores  wil  be  whores  at  honest  mens  doores 
Disphight  a'th  Beadles  nose.   Dispight  a'th,  &c. 

8  The  Broome-man  cryes,  mayd  seruants  buyes, 
And  swaps  with  him  for  wares. 

The  Countrey  asse  doth  to  the  Cosse, 
Sell  Orchards  full  of  Peares.   Sell,  &c. 

9  Some  Schoole-masters  teach  beyond  their  reach. 
The  Mason  deales  with  his  square, 

The  Fletcher  doth  nock,  and  workes  by  the  clock, 
The  Beareward  Hues  by  his  Beare.  The,  &c. 

10  The  Grosers  pates  'bout  thinges  of  weight. 
Is  often  troubled  sore. 

The  Taylors  yard  is  seldome  marde, 
Tho  it  measure  many  a  score. 
Tho  it  measure  many  a  score. 

tlTiie  ^ttonh  part.  Co  tte  siame  Cune. 

1 1  "  I  "He  Iron-monger  hardly  deales, 

-1-  All  Fruterers  loose  by  th'rot: 
The  Hagler  buyes  and  Hues  by  lyes, 
The  Drunkard  plyes  the  pot, 
The  Drunkard  plyes  the  pot. 



12  The  Collier  sweares  heele  loose  his  eares, 
But  he  will  falsly  dealer 

And  such  are  glad  as  mand  the  Pad, 
For  trifles  for  to  steale.    For  trifles,  &c. 

1 3  The  Budget  maker  oftentimes. 
Doe  deale  in  brasen  nayles: 

And  Tradesmen  store,  turne  Porters  poore,^ 
When  other  trading  failes.  When  other,  &c. 

14  The  Water-man  will  carry  Nan^ 
For  two-pence  crosse  the  Riuer: 
Yet  this  heele  say,  if  she  cannot  pay, 

Her  passage  free  heele  giue  her.    Her  passage,  &c. 

1 5  The  Glouer  pokes,  the  Gallant  smoakes, 
Yet  Hues  in  Tradesmen  debts. 

The  Drawer  thriues  by  honest  wiues. 

The  Cheater  Hues  by  bets.  The  Cheater,  &c. 

16  The  Cooke  doth  broyle,  the  Fencer  foyle. 
The  footman  he  doth  sweat : 

And  Apple-Iohn  doth  vsher  Nan, 

And  she  giues  him  a  heate.   And  she,  &c. 

17  The  Ostler  rubs,  the  Cutler  scrubs. 
The  Semsters  deale  in  Ruffes : 

The  smoakie  man  with  his  small  cole  pan, 
Maintained  is  by  puffes.    Maintained  is,  &c. 

1 8  The  Chandelors  deeds  great  pennance  needs. 
And  Faggots  they  doe  beare: 

The  Vintner  drawes,  yet  makes  no  frayes, 
The  Begger  is  voyde  of  care.  The  Begger,  &. 

19  The  Morris  dance  doth  brauely  prance,  | 
And  about  the  Countrey  goes : 

And  May-poles  hie  shall  mount  to  th'  skie, 
Despight  of  the  Hobby  horsenose.   Despight,  &c. 

1  Cf.  Parker's  ballad  on  Porters  (No.  64). 


20  Dissentions  feede,  the  Parators  neede, 
And  Scoulds  him  money  giue: 

And  if  there  were  no  swaggering  Whore, 
The  Pander  could  not  Hue.  The  Pander,  &c. 

2 1  Thus  all  arise  by  contraries, 
Heauen  send  them  crosses  ten  : 
Unlesse  they  all  both  great  and  small, 
Doe  Hue  and  dye  honest  men,i 

Doe  Hue  and  dye  honest  men. 


Printed  at  London  for  I.  Trundle. 
1  Text  has  a  period. 



News  out  of  East  India 

Pepys,  I,  94,  B.L.,  one  woodcut  (which  is  reproduced  here),  four 

English  colonists  founded  a  small  settlement  at  Cambello  in  the  island 
of  Amboyna,  Dutch  East  Indies,  about  1615.  It  was  destroyed  by  the 
Dutch  in  the  massacre  of  February,  1623.  Many  pamphlets,  both  in 
Dutch  and  English,  were  written  on  the  massacre;  for  example,  Waerack- 
tick  Verkael  Vande  Tidinghen  ghecomen  wt  de  Oost-Indien,  met  the  lacht 
ghenaemt  de  Haze,  in  lunio  1624.  in  Texel  aenghelandt .  .  .Gkedruckt  int 
laer  1624,  and  A  Trve  Relation  of  the  Vnivst,  Crvell,  And  Barbarovs 
Proceedings  against  the  English  at  Amboyna  In  the  East-Indies,  by  the 
Neatherlandish  Governor  and  Covncell  there,  1624  (British  Museum,  106. 
a.  58  and  802.  k.  i).  From  these  pamphlets  the  ballad  was  summarized, 
and  from  them  it  borrowed  its  lugubrious  woodcut. 

A  play  dealing  with  the  massacre  was  "ready  to  be  acted"  in  1625,  but 
was  suppressed  by  the  Privy  Council  {Court  and  Times  of  James  I,  11, 
500;  C.  H.  Firth,  Royal  Historical  Society  Transactions,  Third  Series,  v, 
49).  Jacobean  playwrights  frequently  allude  to  the  Amboyna  aiFair;  for 
example,  in  Fletcher's  Fair  Maid  of  the  Inn,  iv,  ii,  this  passage  occurs: 

Forobosco.  Thence  to  Amboyna  i'  th'  East  Indies, 

for  pepper  to  bake  it. 
Clo'wn.  To  Amboyna.''  so  I  might  be  pepper'd. 

In  1630  (according  to  H.  Lestrange's  Reign  of  King  Charles  I,  1656, 
p.  117)  two  English  captains  who  were  serving  in  Germany  waylaid  with 
a  troop  of  horse,  near  Frankfort,  "Eighteen  Hollanders  (whereof  three 
had  been  actours  in  the  English  Tragedy  at  Amboyna),"  hanged  seventeen 
of  them,  including  ''''Johnson  the  chief  of  the  Amboinists,"  and  sent  "the 
odde  man  home"  to  tell  the  story;  in  1654  Cromwell  extorted  ^^300,000 
and  a  small  island  from  Holland  to  compensate  the  descendants  of  the 
victims  of  the  massacre;  and  in  1673  Dryden  produced  his  tragedy  of 
Amboyna,  or  the  Cruelties  of  the  Dutch  to  the  English  Merchants.  See 
further  F.  S.  Boas,  "The  Amboyna  Outrage,"  Times  Literary  Supplement, 
December  14,  1917,  p.  614. 

On  the  tune  see  No.  49. 



i^eljbes;  out  of  €as;t  Snliia : 
0t  rtje  crueU  anb  tiloobi'  bsfage  of  our  Cngligf)  iHercfjantsi 
antr  otters;  at  Amboyna^  bj>  tfje  i^etfjerlantiifit)  #ouemour 

anb  Councell  tfjere. 

To  the  tune  of  Braggendary. 



FRom  India  Land  such  newes  I  haue, 
of  death  and  deadly  dole, 
As  may  inforce  a  deepe  remorse, 
to  each  good  Christian  soule,^ 
To  thinke  what  English  blood  was  shed, 
Upon  a  small  occasion  bred. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^ 
vpon  poore  innocent  soules, 

Betweene  the  English  and  the  Dutch, 

hath  beene  a  long  debate: 
And  mischiefes  many  hath  beene  wrought, 

against  our  Merchants  state. 
Where  Merchant-men  haue  lost  their  Hues, 
Their  goods,  their  children,  and  their  wiues; 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^ 
vpon  poore  innocent  soules. 

A  towne  there  stands  Amboyna  call'd,! 

a  Castle  in  the  same: 
Made  rich  by  these  Low-Country  States, 

and  Merchants  of  great  name: 
Who  on  a  time  a  plot  deuiz'd. 
To  haue  our  Englishmen  surpriz'd. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  &c. 

They  gaue  out  words  our  Englishmen, 

by  secret  treason  wrought. 
The  towne  and  Castle  to  blow  vp, 

and  so  in  question  brought. 
Our  English  Merchants  dwelling  there. 
With  all  that  held  our  Country  deare. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  &'c. 

Their  Gouernor  a  Councell  cal'd, 

and  yet  no  reason  why. 
That  twenty  of  our  Englishmen 

should  there  their  causes  try: 

^  Text  has  a  period. 


And  answer  for  a  thing  not  done, 
Nor  any  way  there  thought  vpon. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  &'c. 

6  To  cruell  tortures  day  by  day, 

our  English  thus  were  brought: 
Where  strange  tormenting  instruments 

vpon  their  bodies  wrought: 
To  make  them  all  confesse  and  say. 
They  sought  Amboyna  to  betray. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  ^. 

7  The  first  they  laid  vpon  a  Racke, 

with  armes  and  legs  abroad, 
And  spred  him,  till  he  did  confesse 

and  most  vntruly  show'd, 
How  that  our  Englishmen  conspir'd, 
To  haue  the  town  and  castle  fier'd. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^ 
vpon  poore  innocent  soules. 

Wi^t  sietonb  ^art,  tlTo  rtje  ssame  tune. 

8  '  I  "He  second  ofthese  wofull  men, 

-L  they  bound  vnto  a  stake: 
And  throtle  him  about  the  necke, 

till  he  could  hardly  speake. 
Which  cruell  torments  to  auoyd, 
Said  that  the  towne  should  be  destroyd. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  is'c. 

9  The  third  they  bound  in  Iron  chaines, 

which  griped  him  so  sore. 
That  all  his  body  round  about, 

did  gush  out  bloody  gore: 
From  which  to  find  some  ease  he  sayd, 
Amboyna  should  haue  beene  betrayd. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  ^c. 



10  They  whipt  the  fourth  man  at  a  post, 

vniustly  without  fault: 
And  washt  his  bloody  body  ore, 

with  vinegar  and  salt. 
And  to  the  fifth  like  punishment, 
Though  to  no  ill  he  gaue  consent. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  i^c. 

1 1  With  water  they  stuft  vp  the  sixth, 

vntill  his  body  swel'd: 
The  seuenth  likewise  with  twisted  coard, 

most  barbarously  compeld, 
To  say  our  English  friends  were  those. 
That  were  the  townesmens  greatest  foes. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  \f^^'~\  ^ 

12  The  eighth  2  with  burning  pincers  pul'd, 

made  challenge  of  the  rest  : 
Though  most  vntrue,  to  ease  himselfe, 

and  so  false  things  confest.' 
So  did  the  nynth  by  their  pretence, 
Bring  in  most  wrongfull  euidence. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  &'c. 

1 3  The  tenth  they  hung  vp  by  the  armes 

two  foot  aboue  the  ground: 
And  so  with  scorching  candles  burn'd 

his  back  and  body  round : 
With  all  the  other  parts  about. 
Till  drops  of  fat  the  lights  put  out. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe,  &'c. 

14  The  rest  of  these  distressed  soules, 

were  vsed  in  like  sort: 
At  which  the  cruell  Gouernor, 
made  his  tormenting  sport. 
Till  nyneteene  of  our  Englishmen, 
Felt  more  then  common  tortures  then. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^ 
vpon  poore  innocent  soules. 
^  Text  omits.  ^  Text  eight. 




1 5  Then  Captaine  Towerson  came  in  place, 

to  answer  with  the  rest: 
To  whom  was  told  the  treason  was 

by  those  before  confest. 
Though  all  as  false  as  God  was  true, 
Yet  they  affirme,  the  same  he  knew. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  &'c. 

1 6  For  which  his  goods  were  seized  on, 

which  all  our  English  had: 
And  so  vnto  the  ludgement  seat, 

as  traitors  they  were  led. 
And  there  vniustly  iudg'd  to  dye. 
Which  was  performed  immediately. 
Oh  heauen^  looke  downe^  i^c. 

1 7  Ten  of  our  men  they  hang'd  forthwith, 

the  other  ten  went  free: 
Which  was  a  wrongfull  ludgement  giuen, 

and  full  of  griefe  to  see,i 
That  after  all  those  torments  past. 
They  thus  should  suffer  death  at  last. 
Oh  heauen  looke  downe^  ^c. 


1 8  But  on  the  execution  day, 

as  God  did  so  dispose, 
A  sudden  darkenesse  and  a  gust 

of  violent  winds  arose,^ 
Which  cast  two  of  their  ships  away. 
As  they  at  road  in  harbour  lay. 

Thus  heauen  lookes  downe^  &'c. 

1 9  Yea  here  to  make  Gods  vengeance  more, 

the  chiefest  of  that  plot,* 
In  this  tormenting  of  our  friends, 

as  then  escaped  not. 
But  felt  Gods  heauy  Iron  hand. 
And  could  no  way  the  same  withstand. 
Thus  Heauen  lookes  downe  i^c. 
^  Text  has  a  period. 



20  For  comming  to  the  graues  whereas 

the  murthered  bodies  lay: 
He  fell  Starke  mad,  and  would  not  thence, 

with  life  depart  away. 
But  dyed  most  strangely  in  that  place, 
Euen  as  a  wretch  bereft  of  grace : 
Thus  heauen  lookes  dovjne^  &^c. 

2 1  Thus  haue  you  heard  what  bloody  deeds, 

were  late  in  India  done: 
To  make  vs  all  in  England  heere, 

with  sorrow  to  thinke  vpon. 
What  sad  misfortune  should  be  hap. 
To  take  our  friends  in  such  a  trap. 
Tet  heauen  lookes  downe^ 
Vpon  poore  innocent  soules. 

Cte  namesf  of  ttosie 

®fie  namesf  of  tfjosie 



I    Cap  tain  e  Gabriel  Tower  son. 

I    lohn  Beomont. 

1    Samuel  Colson  Factor. 

1   Edward  Collins. 

3   Emanuel  Tomson  Assistant. 

3    William  Webber. 

4   Timothy  lohnson  Assistant. 

4  Ephraim  Ramsey. 

5  lohn  Wether  all  Factor. 

5    George  Sharocke. 

6   lohn  Clarke  Assistant. 

6  lohn  Sadler. 

7    William  Griggs  Factor. 

7   lohn  Powell. 

8   Abel  Price  Chyrurgian. 

8    Thomas  Ladbrooke. 

9   Robert  Browne  Taylor. 

9  A  Portingall. 

10  lohn  Far  do  steward  of  the 

You  may  read  more  of 

English  house. 

this  bloody  Tragedy  in 

As  also  nyne  natiue  Indians  suf- 

a booke  printed  by  au- 

fered together  with  them. 

thority}    1624. 

Printed  at  London  for  F.  Coules, 
dwelling  at  the  vpper  end  of  the  Old-Baily. 

^  Text  author^. 



Apleasant  new  ballad 

Pepys,  I,  376,  B.L.,  five  woodcuts,  four  columns.  There  is  a  coarse 
refacimento  of  the  ballad  in  Westminster  Drollery,  Part  I,  1671  (ed. 
J.  W.  Ebsworth,  pp.  44—47),  called  "The  kind  Husband,  but  imperious 
Wife.  The  first  part  of  the  Tune  his,  and  the  latter  part  her's."  It  is  almost 
identical  with  the  version  called  "The  Patient  Man,  and  the  Scolding 
Wife"  in  Grammatical  Drollery,  1682,  pp.  109-110,  by  W.H.  {i.e. 
Captain  William  Hicks). 

Coarse  as  the  language  is,  there  is  a  boisterous  mirth  about  this  jig  that 
must  have  given  it  great  appeal  in  the  theatre.  With  good  actors  and 
singers  in  the  roles  of  Husband  and  Wife  and  with  emphasis  on  stage 
business — which  is  suggested  but  not  expressed — even  to-day  the  jig  would 
be  more  comic  than  are  many  vaudeville  performances.  Shrewish  wives 
were  often  chastened  by  being  forced  to  light  the  wrong  ends  of  candles 
and  by  "pinning  the  basket."  Those  who  are  interested  in  the  latter  pro- 
cedure may  enjoy  reading  an  early  Elizabethan  ballad  by  T.  Rider,  "A 
merie  newe  Ballad  intituled,  the  Pinnyng  of  the  Basket"  (y/  Collection  of 
Seventy-Nine  Black-Letter  Ballads  and  Broadsides,  London,  1867,  p.  105), 
one  stanza  of  which  runs: 

Her  housebande,  sore  insenste,  did  sweare 

By  stockes  and  stones. 
She  should,  or  els  he  would  prepare 

To  baste  her  bones, — 
Tantara,  tara,  tantara; — 

Quoth  he,  lie  tame  your  tongue. 
And  make  you  pinne  the  basket  to, 

Doubt  not,  ere  it  be  long. 

The  tune  of  Hozv  shall  we,  good  husband,  live  comes  from  the  first  line 
of  a  ballad  (for  which  no  tune  is  indicated)  registered  under  that  title  on 
December  14,  1624  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  131;  Roxburghe  Ballads,  \, 
122).  The  jig,  then,  dates  about  1625. 



^  pleasiant  neto  Pallab,  bott  merrp  anti  taittp, 
tKfjat  gfjttoetij  tfje  fjumourjs,  of  tije  toiuesJ  in  tfje  €ity. 

To  the  tune  of,  Hozv  shall  a  good  Husband. 


I    "X  ^  7  Ife,  prethee  come  hither  &  sit  thee  down  by  me, 
V  V   For  I  am  best  pleased  when  y  art  most  nie  me. 


1    I  scorne  to  sit  by  such  a  blockheaded  Clowne, 

No  thou  shalt  not  touch  the  worst  hem  of  my  Gowne, 
For  I  could  haue  had  men  both  proper  and  good, 
That  would  haue  maintaind  me  euen  as  I  wood. 


3  Wife  pray  you  forgiue  me  if  I  haue  offended, 

Let  me  know  my  fault  Loue,  and  all  shall  be  mended. 


4  Away  you  base  Rascall,  get  out  of  my  sight, 
Thou  shalt  not  come  neere  me  by  day  nor  by  night. 
For  dost  thou  not  see  it,  euen  to  my  disgrace, 

My  neighbours  exceed  me  in  dressings  and  Lace. 


5  If  that  be  the  matter  wife,  let  it  not  moue  thee. 

Thou  shalt  haue  as  good  as  they;  come  kisse  &  loue     ii 
me.  ' 


6  I  will  haue  a  silke  Gowne,  a  Maske  and  a  Fanne, 
I  will  neuer  walke  abroad  without  my  man, 
And  he  shall  be  handsome  to,  with  a  good  face. 
Not  such  a  Clowne  as  You,  me  to  disgrace. 




7  Wife  I  will  attend  thee  if  that  may  suffice, 
And  lay  all  things  ready  against  you  doe  rise, 
And  then  if  you  please  to  walke  and  take  the  ayre. 
Wife  I  will  waite  on  thee,  be  it  foule  or  faire.^ 


8  Nay,  thou  art  not  worthy  to  carry  my  Fan, 
I  will  be  supplied  by  a  propperer  man  : 

And  wee'l  haue  our  Coach  and  horse  to  ride  at  pleasure 
And  thou  shalt  run  by  on  foot,  and  wait  our  leisure. 


9  Wife  thou  shall  haue  horses  and  Coach,  and  a  man 
To   driue   for   thy   pleasure   through    Cheapside    & 

And  I  will  goe  with  thee,  and  alwayes  attend  thee, 
My  care  shall  be  such  Loue,  as  none  shall  offend  thee. 


10  lie  not  be  attended  by  any  such  Foole. 

No,  thou  art  not  worthy,  to  empty  my  close  stoole, 
For  thou  hast  no  complement.  Courtship,  nor  wit. 
And  therefore  not  worthy  to  kisse  where  I  sit. 

tKte  seconti  part :  Co  tfje  siame  tune. 


1 1  /~^Ome  Dame  I  will  tell  you,  for  I  cannot  hold 
^^^  No  longer,  but  tell  thee  that   thou   art  turn'd 

For  I  haue  borne  long  with  your  blockhead  and  foole. 
Not  worthy  you  say,  for  to  empty  your  stoole. 


1 2  Why  so  I  say  still,  if  you  mend  not  your  manners. 
It  were  better  you  liued  among  Brewers  or  Tanners. 

^  Text  has  a  comma. 

R.  P.G. 

209  o 



1 3  Come  Huswife  He  teach  you  to  vse  your  tongue  better 
Or  else  I  will  tye  it  vp  with  such  a  fetter; 

Shalt  cause  you  to  wish  you  neuer  had  vsed  it, 
With  such  ill-be-fitting  tearmes  and  so  abusing  it. 


14  Why  what  haue  I  said  now  you  take  in  such  dudgeon, 
Which  makes  you  to  grumble  so  like  a  Curmudgeon, 


15  Dame  He  make  you  know  how  that  I  am  your  head, 
And  you  shall  be  ready  at  board,  or  in  bed. 

To  giue  me  content,  or  else  be  sure  of  this. 
Both  gowne  and  lace,  horse  &  Coach  all  you  shall 


16  Alas  Sir,  you  wrong  me,  to  vse  me  so  ill. 
In  not  giuing  way  to  my  humour  and  will: 
For  tis  for  your  credit  man,  all  this  I  craue. 
And  you  are  esteemed  for  my  going  braue. 


17  I  like  no  such  credit  Dame,  let  them  that  will, 
Retaine  it  and  hold  it,  twill  giue  them  their  fill, 
But  as  for  your  selfe  Wife,  He  cause  you  to  know. 
What  duty  and  seruice  to  me  you  doe  owe. 


18  I  pray  you  be  quiet,  if  I  haue  offended, 

Forgiue  me  my  fault  Loue,  and  all  shall  be  mended : 
And  here  I  doe  promise  and  giue  my  consent. 
To  doe  whatsoeuer  may  giue  you  content. 




19  Well,  that  I  will  try  ere  you  part  from  my  sight, 
Fetch  vp  all  the  Candles,  and  see  you  doe  light 
Euery  one  of  them,  euen  at  the  wrong  ends. 
And  then  pinne  the  basket,  and  so  we  are  friends. 


20  All  this  am  I  willing,  and  more  I  will  doe, 

To  shew  my  respect,  thus  I  stoope  to  your  shooe. 


1 1    Why  that's  a  good  Wrench,  now  come  kisse  &  be 
Put  out  all  the  Candles  He  make  thee  amends. 

Printed  at  London  for  H.G. 

211  02 


T'wo  W^ehh  lovers 

Pepys,  I,  270,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns.  The  last  stanza  and 
the  colophon  are  badly  mutilated:  the  gaps  have  been  filled  in  by  guess. 
There  can,  however,  be  no  doubt  that  the  torn  signature  was  that  of  Martin 
Parker,  though  the  ballad  has  not  before  been  given  in  any  list  of  his  works. 
The  date  is  after  December  14,  1624,  when  the  ballad  of  "The  Blazing 
Torch"  {Roxburghe  Ballads,  i,  418),  for  which  the  tune  is  named,  first 
appears  in  the  Stationers'  Register  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  131). 

Due  gwin,  so  Professor  F.  N.  Robinson,  of  Harvard,  kindly  informs  me, 
is  the  Welsh  exclamation  Dutv  gwyn,  equivalent  to  "Good  Lord"  or 
"Good  God."  The  ballad  may  be  quoted  in  Fletcher's  Monsieur  Thomas, 
IV,  iv,  where  Lancelot  says:  "Oh,  Deu  guin!  Can  you  deny  you  beat  a 
constable  Last  night.^"^  There  is  in  the  Pepys  Collection  (i,  451)  a  ballad 
written  in  Welsh — "Byd  Y  bigail  [i.e.  "Byd  y  bugail"  =  "The  Shepherd's 
World".^].  .  .to  a  daintie  new  tune.  .  .Terfyn  R.H.  Printed  by  A.M.  for 
H.  G[osson]." 

TOe  ttoo  ^^elsf)  Houersf, 

Cte  Pritisif)  i^pmpfj  tijat  long  toag  in  fjer  life, 
^  cfjangins  iWailJ,  but  a  recanting  Wiiit, 
?let  euerp  man  tfjat  tooulb  toin  a  ifHailJjf  fauour, 
^t  Ijome  feeepe  toitfj  ijer,  if  Ije  meane  to  Ijaue  \^tx. 

To  the  tune  of  the  Blazing  Torch. 

I      AS  late  I  walkt  the  Meades  along, 
-LX.  where  Seuerns  streames  did  glide; 
I  heard  a  mournfull  Shepherds  tong, 
and  him  at  last  espide. 

1  The  date  of  Monsieur  Thomas  is  uncertain.  It  was  first  printed  in 
1639.  The  appearance  of  Due  gwin  here  may  indicate  merely  that  that 
phrase  was  in  Elizabethan  slang  use. 



He  wrung  his  hands  and  wept  apace, 

to  mourne  he  did  not  lin : 
Riuers  of  teares  ran  downe  his  face, 

and  still  he  cride  Due  gwin. 

I  drew  me  neere  vnto  the  Swaine, 

and  prayd  him  tell  the  cause, 
Why  he  so  sadly  did  complaine, 

he  silent  made  a  pause. 
At  length  he  raisd  himselfe  to  speake, 

yet  e're  he  could  begin; 
He  sigh'd  as  if  his  heart  would  breake, 

and  cryde  alas  Due  gwin. 

Quoth  he.  Among  yon  Brittish  hills, 

where  Zephirus  doth  breathe: 
Where  flowers  sweet  the  Meadows  fills, 

and  valleys  vnderneathe, 
And  neere  vnto  that  fountaine  head, 

where  Dee  comes  flowing  in: 
Ah  me,  that  fatall  Nymph  was  bred, 

for  whom  I  cryde  Due  gwin. 

I  loued  her  once,  but  now  I  rue, 

that  I  was  such  an  Asse: 
For  she  did  proue  the  most  vntrue, 

that  euer  woman  was. 
Faire  was  her  face,  great  was  her  fame, 

had  she  still  constant  bin: 
But,  Oh,  her  heart  was  not  the  same: 

which  makes  me  cry  Due  gwin. 

Once  had  I  power,  till  her  command 

forbad  that  power  to  rise, 
Further  then  touching  of  her  hand, 

or  looking  on  her  eyes. 
I  feard  to  contradict  her  will, 

as  though  it  were  a  sinne: 
Yet  she  rewards  my  good  with  ill, 

which  makes  me  cry  Due  gwin, 



6  I  thought  I  had  her  free  consent, 

but  it  prou'd  quite  contrarie: 
For  while  I  on  a  iourney  went, 

another  she  did  marrie. 
Cause  I  was  absent  for  a  space, 

and  thought  no  hurt  therein : 
Another  did  possesse  my  place, 

which  made  me  cry  Due  gwin. 

7  When  I  returned  home  againe, 

I  thought  with  her  to  wed : 
But  there  I  found  my  labour  vaine, 

for  she  before  was  sped. 
Which  when  I  saw,  I  sigh'd  and  sobd, 

and  made  a  pitious  din : 
Wishing  him  hang'd  that  had  me  robd, 

a>jd  made  me  cry  Due  gwin. 

8  It  seemes  by  this,  'tis  hard  to  finde 

a  woman  true  in  heart : 
Beleeue  them  not,  though  they  seeme  kind, 

they  can  deceiue  by  art. 
We  men  may  woe  and  vse  the  meanes, 

at  vs  they  laugh  and  grin : 
Thus  we  are  crost  by  faithlesse  queanes, 

which  makes  vs  cry  Due  gwin. 

Clje  sieconb  ^art.  Co  tfje  jsame  tune. 
OTiirt)  tije  itpmpljs;  ^Recantation. 

9  "XT Ow  when  the  Nymph  did  see  y^  swain 
1  ^   was  safe  returned  at  last : 

Most  petuously  she  did  complaine, 

to  thinke  of  what  was  past. 
The  sting  of  conscience  did  her  pricke, 

calling  to  minde  her  sinne: 
Immediatly  she  fell  sore  sicke, 

and  cryde  alas  Due  gwin. 




10  No  comfort  could  she  take  at  all, 

to  cure  her  inward  smart: 
She  thought  it  bootlesse  to  recall 

the  folly  of  her  heart. 
It  might  haue  greeu'd  a  man  to  see, 

the  case  that  she  was  in: 
My  fond  mistrust  of  him,  quoth  she, 

thus  makes  me  cry  Due  gwin. 

1 1  Oh  had  I  neuer  seene  mans  face, 

since  my  deere  shepheard  went: 
Then  had  I  neuer  knowne  disgrace, 

but  liu'd  still  continent. 
Or  if  within  some  sacred  cell, 

I  had  included  bin: 
I  had  remained  constant  still, 

but  now  I  cry  Due  gwin. 

11    Thus  hauing  wept  for  her  offence, 

she  sent  vnto  her  swaine: 
Desiring  that  without  offence, 

she  might  his  sight  obtaine. 
At  her  request  he  went  apace, 

her  husband  not  within: 
As  soone  as  e're  she  saw  his  face, 

she  weft  and  cryde  Due  gwin, 

1 3  What  speeches  past  betweene  these  twaine 

were  needlesse  here  to  tell : 
The  Nymph  imbrac'd  and  kist  her  Swain, 

and  all  was  wondrous  well. 
He  needs  no  elegance  of  phrase, 

her  fauour  now  to  win. 
Her  griefe  was  turn'd  to  fond  loue  plaies, 

she  cryde  no  more  Due  gwin. 

14  Deare  loue,  quoth  she,  what's  done  &  past, 

I  cannot  now  recant: 
Yet  what  I  haue,  while  life  doth  last, 
my  shepheard  shall  not  want. 



What  though  my  husbands  forehead  ake, 

I  weigh  it  not  a  pin : 
Yet  if  by  chance  he  should  vs  take, 

we  both  must  cry  Due  gwin. 

15    Thus  were  the  louers  perfect  friends, 

the  Nymph,  as  best  became  her, 
Did  make  her  shepheard  such  amend,^ 

he  knew  not  how  to  blame  her. 
Yet  let  all  young  men  keepe  [at  home] 

if  they  their  loues  w[ould  win,] 
If  they  be  lost  while  [they  are  gone,] 

then  they  may  cry  [Due  gwin.'] 

By  Martin  [Parker]. 

London  Printed  for  IoA[n  Wright  and  are] 

to  be  sold  at  his  shop  [near  the  Hospijtall 

gate  in  S[mithfield.] 

^  ^<»<7^  amends. 





News  good  and  new 

Pepys,  I,  2IO,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

The  date  of  the  ballad  is  not  later  than  1625.  This  is  a  jig  without  a 
dramatic  plot.  There  are  only  two  characters,  but  the  lines  afford  ample 
opportunity  for  humorous  action,  and  in  the  mouths  of  clever  actors  and 
dancers  can  easily  have  furnished  a  comic  and  enjoyable  entertainment. 
I  can  find  no  trace  of  the  tune. 

^elji)e£f  gootn  anlr  nebb  Coo  goob  to  be  true. 

To  the  tune  of  Twenty  pound  a  yeere. 

lohn   "XT Ow  welcome  neighbour  Rowland^ 

1  ^    From  London  welcome  home, 
What  newes  is  there  I  pray  you  ? 

From  thence  I  heare  you  come. 
Row.  The  best  that  ere  you  heard, 

Youle  say't  when  I  you  shew. 
lohn.   I  hardly  can  beleeue  it, 

Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

Row.  The  Lawyer  in  his  pleading 

to  gaine  giues  no  respect. 
Though  Clients  haue  no  mony, 

he  doth  not  them  neglect: 
But  truly  pleades  their  cause, 

of  these  there  be  not  few. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  it, 

Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 



1    In^  Lords  there's  no  ambition, 

in  Ladies  theres  no  pride, 
The  Clergie  loues  no  monie, 

no  woman's  wanton-eyde, 
Each  one  that  wicked  Hu'd, 

doth  striue  to  Hue  anew. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  it, 

Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

.   Row.  I  there  did  know  an  Usurer, 

ith  hundred  tooke  threescore: 
But  he  is  now  repented, 

and  gaue  all  to  the  poore. 
And  daily  fasts  and  prayes, 

and  hates  that  damned  Crew.^ 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  it, 

Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

;■    Row.  Your  Tradesmen  hate  short  measures 

false  lights,  and  falser  waights: 
Nor  will  they  in  their  bargaines, 

vse  oathes  as  cunning  baites. 
To  fetch  the  simple  ore, 

theres  no  such  cunning  lew. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  it, 

Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

3    Row.  No  Vintner  there  doth  mingle,  „ 

his  wine  with  water  pure:  I 

And  then  doth  sweare  tis  neatest :  1 

in  London's  no  such  Brewer. 
Of  that  they  all  are  cleare,  I 

they  can,  but  will  not  brew. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  it. 

Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

^  Supply  Row.  2  Text  has  a  comma. 



7  Row.  No  Ostler  there  will  rob  you, 

of  either  oates  or  hay : 
No  Tapster  nickes  the  pot  there, 

but  fils  it  as  he  may: 
No  hoast  will  there  be  drunke, 

no  hostesse  proues  vntrue. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  it, 

Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

8  Row.  Your  Brokers  there  are  honest 

and  are  not  ranckt  with  knaues. 
They  lend  their  coine  for  conscience, 

which  makes  them  ore  their  graues 
To  haue  their  good  deeds  writ, 

whose  number  is  but  few. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  it, 

Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

9    Row.     A    Sergeant  late  turn'd  honest, 
.t\.  and  not  abus'd  his  place: 
A  Baily  became  pitifull, 

and  wail'd  his  prisoners  case: 
And  both  to  goodnesse  fram'd 

their  former  course  anew. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  this, 
Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

lo   Row.  The  Landlords  there  are  pitiful 

and  racke  not  poore  mens  rents. 
The  tenant  there  is  dutifull, 

and  payes  what  he  indents. 
The  rich  the  poore  doe  loue: 

of  these  there  are  but  few. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  this, 

Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 



1 1  Row.   lailors  are  tender  hearted, 

that  doe  their  prisons  keepe: 
To  thinke  on  poore  mens  miseries, 

their  yron  hearts  doe  weepe : 
The  poore  men  they  relieue, 

and  giue  the  rich  their  due. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  this, 

tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

12  Ro.  You  there  shall  see  no  drunkards, 

in  walking  through  the  street: 
The  stockes  stand  euer  emptie, 

all's  sober  that  you  meet. 
He's  hated  that's  but  seene, 

amidst  a  drunken  crew. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  this, 

Tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

13  Row.  Picthatch,  and  garden  Allies, 

Turnebull,  and  Mutton  lane, 
Of  truth  are  now  turn'd  honest, 

and  hate  vnlawfull  gaine. 
Bridewell  did  them  conuert, 

and  clad  their  backes  in  blew.^ 
lohn,   I  neuer  will  beleeue  this, 

tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

14  Row.  Fleetstreet  has^  nere  a  cheater, 

White-fryers  ne're  a  whore : 
Tiburne  is  now  deliuered, 

and  beareth  theeues  no  more. 
^      And  Smithfield  now  is  rid, 

of  those  horse-cheating  crew. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  this, 

tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

1  Cf.  No.  6,  above.  2  Text  ha's. 




15  Row.  Ludgate  has^  nere  a  bankrupt 

that  can,  but  will  not  pay: 
The  Counter  nere  a  Prodigall, 

that  turnes  the  night  to  day, 
By  vile  disordered  life, 

which  age  doth  after  rue. 
lohn.   I  neuer  will  beleeue  this, 

tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

16  This  newes  doth  much  amaze  me, 

the  which  you  haue  me  told, 
And  truely  to  beleeue  it, 

I  dare  not  be  too  bold. 
I  would  that  true  it  were, 

as  it  to  me  is  new. 
But  I  will  not  beleeue  it, 

tis  too  good  to  be  true. 

Printed  for  I.  Trundle. 
1  Text  ha^s. 



The  cries  of  the  dead 

Pepys,  I,  ii6,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Richard  Price,  weaver,  was  a  genuine  monster  if  our  ballad  can  be  trusted 
— such  a  monster  that  only  Dickens,  perhaps,  could  have  painted  him  in 
true  colours.  The  ballad  is  decidedly  unpleasant  but  has  some  sociological 
value.  If  it  had  a  large  contemporary  circulation.  Price  may  well  have  found 
a  partizan  jury  and  a  hostile  audience  when  he  appeared  for  trial.  Un- 
happily official  documents,  like  those  printed  in  JeafFreson's  Middlesex 
County  Records,  prove  that  barbarous  treatment  of  apprentices  was  only 
too  common.  For  example  (o/i.  (t//.,  iii,  239),  on  October  8,  1655,  Mathew 
Nicholas  was  discharged  from  his  apprenticeship  to  an  Uxbridge  tool- 
maker,  William  Lovejoy,  because  it  was  proved  that  Lovejoy  had  grossly- 
mistreated  the  boy,  "tyinge  and  fetteringe  him  to  the  shoppe,  and  that 
the  said  master  his  wife  and  mother  did  most  cruelly  and  inhumanely 
beate  his  said  apprentice,  and  also  whip'd  him  until  he  was  very  blooddy 
and  his  flesh  rawe  over  a  great  part  of  his  body,  and  then  salted  him,  and 
held  him  naked  to  the  fyre,  beinge  soe  salted  to  add  to  his  paine." 

"Ned  Smith,"  a  ballad,  was  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall  for  transfer  on 
December  14,  1624  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  131;  Roxburghe  Ballads,  11, 
465).  It  is  to  be  sung  to  the  oft-mentioned  tune  of  Dainty,  come  thou  to 
me  (cf  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  11,  517).  The  date  of  the  present  ballad 
is  perhaps  about  1625. 



Cfie  crpcjf  of  tf}E  Bcalj. 
0v  tfje  late  iHurttcr  in  ^outfjtoarfee,  committeb  tjp 
one  i^icljarb  ^rice  OTieauer,  tofjo  mofit  bnfjumapnlp 
tormented  to  treatfj  a  bop  of  tfjirteene  pearesi  olb,  toitf) 
ttDO  otfjersi  before,  tofjict  fte  brought  to  bntimelp  enb£f, 
for  tofjicf)  t)e  Ipetfj  noto  imprisisioneb  in  tfie  ?B(Hf)ite= 
XponS  till  tije  time  of  ijisi  triall. 

To  the  tune  oi  Ned  Smith. 

MEe  thinkes  I  heare  a  jSfrone, 
of  death  and  deadly  dole, 
Assending  from  the  graue 

of  a  poore  silly  soule: 
Of  a  poore  silly  soule, 

vntimely  made  away. 
Come  then  and  sing  with  me, 
sobbs  of  sad  welladay. 
1  The  common  prison  of  Surrey. 


1    One  Price^  in  South-warke  dwelt 

a  Weauer  by  his  trayde, 
But  a  more  graceles  man 

I  thinke  was  neuer  made : 
All  his  life  wicked  was, 

and  his  minde  bent  to  blood, 
Nothing  but  cruelty 

did  his  heart  any  good. 

3  Many  poore  Prentisses 

to  himselfe  did  he  bind, 
Sweete  gentle  children  all 

of  a  most  willing  mind: 
Seruing  him  carefully 

in  this  his  weauing  Art, 
Whome  he  requited  still, 

with  a  most  cruel  heart. 

4  LawfuU  corrections,  he 

from  his  mind  cast  aside. 
Beating  them  cruelly 

for  no  cause,  tel  they  dyed : 
Spurning  and  kicking  them, 

as  if  dogs  they  had  beene, 
Careles  in  cruelty, 

was  this  wretch  euer  scene. 

5  Neuer  went  they  without 

brused  and  broken  eyes. 
Head  and  face  blacke  and  blew, 

such  was  their  miseries: 
What  so  came  next  his  hand, 

tongs  or  forke  from  the  fier 
Would  he  still  lay  on  them, 

in  his  madd  moody  ire. 

6  Parents  come  bend  your  eares, 

listen  what  followed  on, 




Masters  come  shed  your  teares, 
mothers  come  make  your  moane, 

Seruants  with  sad  laments, 
rue  the  calamity, 

Those  gentle  children  had; 
liuing  in  missery. 

7  The  first  a  pretty  boy, 

had  with  a  suddaine  spurne, 
One  of  his  eares  strooke  off, 

woefully  rent  and  torne : 
Where  vnder  surgeons  hands, 

he  liued  long  in  woe. 
By  this  same  grieuous  wound, 

this  vilaine  gaue  him  so. 

8  Most  heauv  was  his  hand, 

and  his  heart  full  of  strif, 
Ungodly  all  the  dayes 

of  this  his  passed  life. 
Who  so  perswading  him 

to  patient  Charity, 
Was  still  abussed  much, 

by  this  wretch  wilfully. 

9  Witness  this  harmles  child, 

that  he  misused  sore, 
Scourging  him  day  by  day, 

not  knowing  cause  wherefore, 
Unlawfull  gouernment 

brings  him  vnto  his  end. 
From  such  like  cruelty 

all  seruants  God  defend. 

tlTlje  sfeconli  part,   Co  tfje  siame  tune. 

lo   ^  I  ^His  his  deeds  was  not  known 
A  which  he  kept  secretly 
Nor  to  light,  many  a  day 
came  this  vile  villany 



Till  that  his  heart  did  thirst, 
more  humain  blood  to  shed, 

Which  in  the  same  full  sone 
crewell  conditions  bred. 

1 1  No  sparke  of  gentlenes, 

but  flames  of  cruelty, 
Burned  within  his  brest 

mischiefes  blacke  treasury, 
So  that  to  further  ills, 

and  to  more  bloody  deeds 
Wanting  grace,  wilfully 

to  the  same  he  proceeds. 

12  A  poore  mans  child  he  had 

whome  he  beat  backe  and  syde 
Continuing  it  day  and  hower 

till  this  poore  prentis  dyed. 
For  which  he  was  arraigned 

and  by  Law  had  beene  cast, 
But  mercy  quitted  him 

for  those  offences  past. 

1 3  Yet  those  faire  warnings  here 

wrought  in  him  little  good, 
But  rather  drew  him  on 

For  to  shed  further  blood: 
And  being  blinded  thus 

with  a  persewing  ill, 
Another  poore  harmles  child 

he  did  by  beating  kill. 

14  Harmelesse  indeed  was  he, 

and  a  poore  neighbours  sonne 
Whom  he  did  beat  and  bruze 

ere  since  this  frost  begun  : 
Onely  because  that  hee 

could  not  worke  in  the  cold 
Nor  performe  such  a  taske 

as  he  by  custome  should. 




15  Wherefore  this  cruell  wretch, 

whipt  him  from  top  to  toe, 
With  a  coard  full  of  knotts, 

of  leather  yet  to  show, 
Wherby  his  tender  limbes, 

from  his  foote  to  the  head, 
Are  with  wounds  blacke  &  blew, 

couered  ore  all  and  spred. 

16  Oh  cursed  cruelties, 

this  did  not  him  suffice. 
But  kept  him  lokt  vp  closse, 

from  sight  of  neighbors  eyes. 
And  from  his  parents  deare, 

when  they  came  him  to  see. 
Little  misdouting  this, 

their  sonnes  extremetye. 

1 7  Thus  weary  woefull  dayes, 

did  this  poore  child  abide. 
Where  he  lay  languishing, 

till  the  hower  that  he  dyed, 
Where  his  poore  mangled  corpes, 

By  neighbors  there  was  found, 
bruzed  and  beaten  sore, 

with  many  a  deadly  wound. 

1 8  His  braines  ny  broaken  forth, 

and  his  neck  burst  in  twaine. 
On  his  Limbs  ouer  all, 

spotts  of  blood  did  remaine. 
And  the  rim  of  his  wombe, 

spurned  in  peeces  is, 
Neuer  such  Marterdome, 

of  a  poore  child  like  this.^ 

^  Text  has  a  comma. 



1 9    (Oh  Price,)  deare  is  the  price 

for  this  blood  thou  must  pay, 
Life  for  life,  bloud  for  bloud, 

on  thy  domes  dying  day, 
Pray  thou  for  mercy  there, 

to  saue  thy  sinfull  soule. 
For  me  thinks  I  doe  heare, 

thy  pasing  Bell  doth  toule. 

Printed  at  London  for  T.L. 




A  proverb  old ^  yet  ne'^er  forgot 

Pepys,  I,  386,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns.  This  is  an  admirably 
printed  and  illustrated  sheet,  of  which  Francis  Grove  could  justly  have 
been  proud. 

A  number  of  other  ballads  by  Martin  Parker  are  written  on  proverbs — 
"Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady,"  "The  proof  of  the  pudding  is  all  in 
the  eating,"  and  the  like.  "Strike  while  the  iron  is  hot"  is  a  proverb  that 
occurs  in  Chaucer's  Melibeus  (line  70)  and  his  Troilus  and  Criseyde  (11, 
1275),  in  John  Heywood's  Proverbs  {Works,  1562,  ed.  J.  S.  Farmer, 
pp.  8,  221),  in  3  Henry  VI,  v,  i,  49,  in  Webster's  Northward  Ho,  11,  ii, 
and  in  many  other  places.  Here  Parker  advises  young  men  to  marry  widows, 
though  in  "The  Wiving  Age"  (No.  41)  he  scoffs  at  this  practice. 

The  tune  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  143. 

%  ^rouerbe  olb,  pet  nere  forgot, 

tS^t£f  goob  to  sitrike  tattle  ttie  3lron£(  t)ott. 

Coungell  to  all  |9oung  men  tfjat  are  poore, 

Co  iHarrp  toitf)  OTitrofcoes  noto  tot)ile  tfjere  is!  sitore. 

To  the  Tune  of,  Dulcina. 

I      ALl  you  Young-men  who  would  Marry, 
■Lx.  and  enioy  your  hearts  content, 
In  your  mindes  this  Counsell  carry, 
then  you  shall  no  whitt  repent: 

now  is  the  time 

that  Men  may  clime 
Unto  promotion  by  good  lot, 

this  Prouerbe  old 

hath  oft  bene  told, 
Tis  good  to  strike  while  the  Iron's  hott. 



2  Wealthy  Widowes  now  are  plenty, 

where  you  come  in  any  place, 
For  one  Man  thers  Women  twenty, 
this  time  lasts  but  for  a  space : 
She^  will  be  wrought, 
though  it  be  for  nought, 
But  wealth  which  their  first  Husband  got, 
let  Young-men  poore 
make  hast  therefore, 
Tis  good  to  strike  while  the  Irons  hott.^ 

3  Now  is  the  Wooing  time  or  neuer, 

Widowes  now  will  loue  Young-men, 
Death  them  from  their  Mates  did  seuer, 
now  they  long  to  match  agen, 
they  will  not  stand 
for  House  or  Land, 
Although  thou  be'st  not  worth  a  groat, 
set  foorth  thy  selfe, 
thou  shalt  haue  Pelfe, 
If  thou  wilt  strike  while  the  Irons  hott. 

4  Doe  not  dote  on  Maydens  features, 

Widowes  are  the  only  ware, 
It  is  many  Young-mens  natures 
to  loue  Maydens  young  and  fayre, 
tis  Cupids  wile 
thus  to  beguile 
Young  Louers,  therefore  trust  him  not, 
get  one  with  Gold, 
though  nere  so  old, 
Tis  good  to  strike  while  the  Irons  hott. 

5  Lads  and  Lasses  often  marry, 

ritch  in  nothing  but  in  Loue, 

^  Read  They.  ^  Text  has  a  comma. 



Want  of  meanes  will  make  them  vary, 
as  we  often  times  doe  prooue, 

how  ere  they  fare, 

they  must  take  care 
To  kepe  their  Children  when  they  are  got: 

of  this  take  hede, 

and  learne  with  speed 
To  strike  the  Iron  while  tis  hott. 

6  Let  not  such  a  time  oreslip  thee, 

rayse  thy  fortunes  while  thou  mayst, 
Maydens  can  but  coll  and  clip  thee, 
so  will  Widowes  when  they  tast 
a  Young  mans  loue, 
most  kind  theyle  prooue, 
The  youngest  best  that  can  be  got, 
sith  this  is  so, 
then  be  not  slow. 
But  strike  the  Iron  while  tis  hott. 

tlTfte  jaieconb  ^art,  to  tfje  same  tKune. 

7  ALl  waies  take  this  for  a  maxime, 
/^  that  old  Widowes  loue  young  men, 
Oh  then  doe  not  spare  for  asking, 

though  she's  old,  shele  toot  agen : 

she  scornes  to  take 

for  Ritches  sake. 
Thy  Money  she  regardeth  not, 

with  loue  her  winne, 

together  ioyne. 
And  strike  the  Iron  while  tis  hott. 

8  Some  perhaps  may  make  obiection 

that  Old-women  ielous  are, 
Let  not  that  change  thy  affection, 
though  they  be  doe  thou  not  care 
if  thou  be  true, 
and  give  her  due, 




Shele  nere  mistrust  thee  feare  it  not, 

shele  loue  thee  deere, 

then  doe  not  feare, 
But  strike  the  Iron  while  tis  hott. 

9    Maydens  loues  are  coy  and  fickle, 
they  too  much  their  equalls  looke. 
If  of  wealth  thou  hast  but  little, 
fye  away  you^  are  mistooke, 
replyeth  she, 
come  not  to  me  : 
Then  art  thou  daunted  soone  God  wot, 
then  woe  an  old, 
feare  not,  be  bold. 
And  strike  the  Iron  while  tis  hott. 

10  And  besides  thers  many  Lasses, 

dares  not  marry  when  they  list, 
Cause  her  Portion  ere  she  passes 
must  come  from  her  Fathers  fist: 
but  still  you  see 
a  Widowes  free, 
For  friend  or  foe  she  careth  not, 
then  who  would  misse 
such  time  as  this, 
Tis  good  to  strike  while  the  Irons  hott. 

1 1  Many  Matches  haue  bene  broken, 

though  both  Parties  were  content. 
When  the  Maides  good-will  is  gotten, 
then  her  Friends  will  not  consent: 
would  it  not  vexe 
a  Man,  to  fixe 
His  mind  on  whats  an  others  lot? 
then  he  thats  poore 
to  mend  his  store. 
Must  strike  the  Iron  while  tis  hott. 

^  Tex  I  your. 


12  If  a  poore  Young-man  be  matched 

with  a  Widdow  stord  with  gold, 
And  thereby  be  much  inritched, 
though  hes  young  and  she  is  old, 
twill  be  no  shame 
vnto  his  Name, 
If  he  haue  what  his  Friends  haue  not, 
but  every  Friend 
will  him  commend 
For  striking  the  Iron  while  twas  hott. 

1 3  Young-men  all  who  heare^  this  Ditty, 

in  your  memories  kepe  it  well, 
Chiefely  you  in  London  City, 
where  so  many  Widowes  dwell, 
the  Season  now 
doth  well  alow 
Your  practise,  therefore  loose  it  not, 
fall  toot  apace, 
while  you  haue  space. 
And  strike  the  Iron  while  tis  hott. 


Martin  Parker. 

Printed  at  London  for  Francis  Groue,  and 
are  to  be  sold  at  his  Shop  on  Snow-Hill. 

1   Text  hreae. 



T'he  wiving  age 

Pepys,  I,  384,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

The  ballad  dates  at  least  as  early  as  1625,  as  appears  from  the  fact  that 
the  ballad  next  following  (No.  42),  which  is  an  answer  to  it,  came  from 
the  press  of  John  Trundle.  Perhaps  another  limit  to  the  date  is  to  be  in- 
ferred from  the  fact  that  "The  siluer  Age,  or,  The  World  turned  back- 
ward. To  a  pleasant  new  Court  tune"  (Pepys,  i,  i  54),  which  is  apparently 
the  first  of  the  popular  "Age"  ballads,  was  licensed  on  November  16,  1621 
(Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  61).  On  that  same  day  "the  brasen  age"  (now 
lost)  was  registered  by  Henry  Gosson,  and  it  may  have  been  followed  by 
an  "Iron  Age,"  since  a  ballad  of  that  title  is  mentioned  in  Fletcher's 
Coxcomb,  II,  ii.  Possibly  the  popularity  of  Thomas  Heywood's  dramas  on 
the  various  ages  had  something  to  do  with  suggesting  these  ballads,  though 
the  subject-matter  of  the  dramas  and  the  ballads  is  widely  different. 

Parker  delighted  in  writing  satirical  ballads  of  this  nature.  Here  he 
ridicules  the  marriage  of  young  men  with  widows,  while  in  "A  Proverb 
Old"  (No.  40)  he  strongly  urges  the  wisdom  of  such  a  procedure.  By  fol- 
lowing this  method  consistently,  Parker  hoped  to  placate  and  amuse  every 
class  of  his  hearers:  those  whom  he  attacked  in  one  ballad  could  be  sure 
that  in  another  he  would  soon  defend  them  or  satirize  their  rivals. 

The  tune  comes  from  a  ballad  in  the  Pepys  Collection,  i,  152,  called 
"The  Golden  Age;  or.  An  Age  of  plaine-dealing.  To  a  pleasant  new 
Court  tune:  Or,  Whoope,  doe  me  no  harme,  good  man"  To  the  latter  tune, 
which  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  208,  T/ie  Go/den  Age  is,  of 
course,  equivalent. 



CJje  bJiuing  age. 


^  great  Complaint  of  tfie  iHailiens;  of  Honbon, 
WBfio  noto  for  lacfee  of  goob  ^usibanljg  are  bnbone, 
Jfor  noto  man?  OTitiotoes!  tf)ougf)  neuer  go  olb, 
iSre  caugtit  bp  tp  poung  men  for  lucre  of  goltr. 

To  the  tune  of  l^e  Go/ Jen  age. 

THe  Maidens  of  London  are  now  in  despaire, 
How  they  shall  get  husbands,  it  is  all  their  care, 
Though  maidens  be  neuer  so  vertuous  and  faire, 
Yet  old  wealthy  widowes,  are  yong  mens  chiefe  ware. 
Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 
Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

A  yong  man  need  neuer  take  thought  how  to  wiue, 
For  widowes  and  maidens  for  husbands  doe  striue, 
Heres  scant  men  enough  for  them  all  left  aliue, 
They  flocke  to  the  Church,  like  Bees  to  the  Hiue. 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age, 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

Twixt  widowes  and  maids  there  is  a  great  strife, 
And  either  of  them  would  faine  be  a  wife. 
They  all  doe  cry  out  on  this  fond  single  life, 
And  long  to  dance  after  a  Taber  and  Fife. 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

The  maidens  I  doubt  will  be  put  to  the  worst, 
And  widowes  though  old,  will  be  maried  all  first. 
To  drinke  the  bride  Posset  good  Lord  how  they  thirst, 
Though  they  haue  foule  faces  the're  beautifull  purst. 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 


5  Most  Widowes  are  impudent,  they  cannot  blush, 
For  speech  of  the  people  they  care  not  a  rush: 
They  are  very  free  and  their  money  is  flush, 

They  will  haue  a  young-man  their  aprons  to  brush.^ 
Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 
Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age? 

6  Yong  maidens  are  bashfull,  but  widowes  are  bold, 
They  tempt  poore  yong  men  with  their  siluer  and  gold. 
For  loue  now  a  dales  for  money  is  sold. 

If  she  be  worth  treasure  no  matter  how  old. 
Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 
Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

7  For  one  maid  now  maried  theres  widowes  a  score, 
Their  husbands  scant  dead  a  whole  fortnight^  before. 
They  cannot  Hue  single  they'le  mary  therefore. 
With  any  yong  man  though  hees  neuer  so  poore. 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 
Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

8  Oh  is  not  this  a  pitifull  case, 

That  many  a  delicate  beautifull  lasse. 

Should  thus  by  old  widowes  be  put  to  disgrace. 

For  euery  yong  lad  has  his  widow  in  chase. 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

Wsst  sieconb  part,  to  tfie  sfame  tune. 

9  T  Et  Maidens  be  patient,  and  neuer  take  thought, 
i— '  But  stay  vntill  all  the  old  widowes  be  caught. 
For  now  like  to  horses  for  coyne  they  are  bought. 
They  say  that  in  Smithfield  \}[v^y  v  cry'd  twelue  a  groat. 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 
Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

^  No  period  in  the  text.  ^  Text  has  a  comma. 

^  Text  fornight. 



10  Yet  some  of  these  widowes  that  marry  so  fast, 

I  doubt  will  haue  cause  to  repent  of  their  haste: 
If  they  marry  yong  men  their  shoulders  to  bast, 
Oh  then  they  will  whine  when  the  remedy  is  past. 

And  curse  such  a  wiuing  age. 

And  curse ^  ^c. 

1 1  Likewise  many  yongmen  perhaps  may  repent. 
When  all  the  old  Angels  are  wasted  and  spent, 
Theyle  wish  the  tongue  out,  that  gaue  first  consent, 
Theyle  say  then  I  muse  what  a  deuill  I  meant 

To  match  in  that  wiuing  age. 
To  match  in  that  wiuing  age. 

12  A  young  man  that  marries  a  widow  for  wealth, 
Does  euen  much  dammage  vnto  his  soules  health, 
For  he  will  be  toying  and  playing  by  stealth, 
Shee's  iealous  though  neuer  so  iustly  he  dealth. 

Take  heed  of  this  wiuing  age. 
Take  heed^  is'c. 

13  When  young  Lads  and  Lasses  as  them  doth  behoue, 
Doe  lawfully  marry  together  in  loue, 

God  poures  downe  his  blessings  on  them  from  aboue. 
But  youth  and  old  dotage  contrary  doe  proue. 

As  tis  in  this  wiuing  age. 

As  tis,  &c. 

14  It  may  be  accounted  a  wonder  to  see 

An  old  crasse  croane  with  a  young  man  agree: 

Tis  onely  for  wealth  that  they  married  be, 

Then  take  them  who  list,  a  young  maid  is  for  me. 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age, 

Oh  this  is  a  wiuing  age. 

15  Then  let  no  yong  maidens  be  displeased  in  minde, 
Though  widowes  are  maried,  and  they  left  behinde: 
Those  yong  men  who  are  thus  contrary  to  kinde. 
You  were  better  lose,  then  euer  to  finde, 

Leaue  them  to  this  wiuing  age. 
Leaue  them,  ^c. 


1 6  Yet  must  I  confesse  many  widowes  there  be 
Who  from  all  libidinous  thoughts  are  so  free, 
They  wed  not  for  lust,  but  for  loue  as  we  see, 
Finde  me  such  a  one,  and  He  quickly  agree, 

To  match  in  this  wiuing  age. 
To  match  in  this  wiuing  age, 

1 7  Of  all  sorts  and  sexes  theres  some  good  some  bad, 
Theres  choyce  of  both  widowes  and  maids  to  be  had; 
He  that  happens  well  hath  cause  to  be  glad. 

And  therefore  let  euery  honest  young  Lad 
Make  choyce  in  this  wiuing  age, 
Make  choyce,  if^c. 

1 8  My  song  vnto  Virgins  is  chiefly  directed, 
Who  now  in  this  age  are  little  respected. 
Though  widowes  be  chosen  and  maids  be  reiected, 
They  will  be  esteemed,  though  now  they'r  neglected, 

Tet  not  in  this  wiuing  age, 
Yet  not  in  this  wiuing  age. 

Jfinis!.  M.P. 

Printed  for  Francis  Coules  at  the  vpper  end  of  the 
old  Baily  neere  Newgate. 



T'he  cunning  age 

Pepys,  I,  412,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

As  John  Trundle  printed  this  ballad,  it  cannot  have  appeared  later  than 
1626.  Perhaps,  as  is  pointed  out  in  the  introduction  to  the  ballad  imme- 
diately preceding,  it  as  well  as  No.  41  was  printed  a  year  or  two  earlier.  It 
was  registered  at  Stationers'  Hall  by  John  Wright  and  his  five  partners  on 
June  I,  1629,  under  the  title  of  "The  Conning  cosening  age"  (Arber's 
Transcript,  iv,  213). 

The  song  was  written  as  a  direct  answer  to  Martin  Parker's  "Wiving 
Age"  (No.  41).  The  author,  John  Cart,  represents  an  irate  widow  as 
bitterly  denying  the  truth  of  Parker's  attack  on  her  sisterhood,  as  scoffing 
at  the  thought  of  remarrying,  and  as  anxious  to  get  her  clutches  on  Parker. 
J.  C,  probably  Cart,  was  the  author  of  "A  Lesson  for  all  True  Christians" 
\Roxburgke  Ballads,  vii,  814);  a  later  ballad  entitled  "A  Warning  for 
Swearers"  {ibid,  viii,  76),  though  signed  J.  C,  can  hardly  have  been  his 

The  tune  is  equivalent  to  Whoop,  do  me  no  harm,  good  man  (cf.  No.  41). 

tlTfje  cunning  ^ge. 

^  remarrietr  ?B8!loman  repenting  fjer  iHarriage, 
iSvefjearsiing  fjer  ?|u£;tianbs;  bisffjonesit  carriage. 

Joeing  a  pleasfant  dialogue  tjettneen  a  remarrieti  OToman, 
a  OTliiitiottJ,  anb  a  poung  ^ife. 

To  the  Tune  of  The  Wiuing  Age. 
I    r^  Ood  morrow,  kind  Gossip,  why  whither  so  fast.'' 
V_T  I  pray  stay  a  while,  I  know  ther's  no  haste, 
And  let's  chat  a  while  of  some  things  that  are  past; 
I  heare  say  y'  are  married  since  I  saw  you  last; 
O  this  is  a  hasty  Age., 
O  this  is  a  hasty  Age. 



Mar.  Woman,  j 

2  'Tis  true,  I  am  marry'd,  which  hath  beene  my  bane, 

But  if  that  I  were  now  a  Widdow  againe,  • 

I  so  would  continue;  but  griefe  is  in  vaine,  ' 

I  must  be  contented  to  sing  this  sad  straine, 

Oh  fie  on  this  coozening  Age, 

Oh  fie  on  this  &c. 


3  Oh,  doe  you  so  quickly  your  bargaine  repent, 
And  yet  you  thought  long  e're  about  it  you  went  ? 
If  marriage  bring  trouble,  in  time  He  preuent 

All  future  vnquietnesse,  and  be  content 
To  shun  such  a  coozening  Age, 
To  shun  ^c. 

Mar.  Wo. 

4  Oh,  woe  is  me,  Gossip,  that  e're  I  was  borne, 
I  marry'd  a  Boy,  that  now  holds  me  in  scorne. 
He  comes  among  Whoores  both  euening  and  morne, 
While  I  sit  at  home,  like  a  creature  forlorne. 

Oh,  this  is  a  coozening  Age, 
Oh,  &c. 


5  Oh,  who  would  imagine  that  such  a  young  Lad, 
That  scarce  was  worth  twelue  pence  with  al  that  he  had, 
Should  wed  a  rich  woman,  and  vse  her  so  bad  ? 
I  trust  I  shall  neuer  be  so  doting  mad. 

To  match  in  this  coozening  Age,  ^c. 

Mar.  Wo. 

6  The  griefe  that  I  suffer  can  hardly  be  told, 
Among  Whores  and  Knaues  he  consumeth  my  gold, 
And  if  I  reprooue  him,  he  tels  me  I  scold, 
I  dare  not  dispose  of  mine  owne  as  I  would. 

Oh  fie  on  this  doting  Age, 
Oh  fie  on  this  doting  Age. 




7  Well,  by  your  example  I  warning  will  take, 
With  no  Skip-iacke  boy  a  match  I  will  make; 
Two  Sutors  I  haue,  but  I  both  will  forsake, 

For  some  that  are  fond,  as  they  brew  let  them  bake; 
rie  take  heed  of  this  cunning  Age^ 
rie  take  heed  of  this  cunning  Age. 

Mar.  Wo. 

8  Well,  doe  so,  good  Gossip;  and^  so  Fare  you  well, 
My  goodly  new  husband  will  curse  me  to  hell : 

Old  lohn^  (God  be  with  him)  my  neighbours  can  tell. 
Did  neuer  in  's  life  giue  me  mouthfull  of  ill. 

Oh  fie  on  this  doting  Age, 

Oh  fie  on  this  doting  Age. 

9  There  is  an  old  Prouerbe,  that  oft  hath  bin  try'd. 
Set  a  Beggar  on  horse-back,  to  tK  Gallowes  heel  ride; 
So,  wed  a  young  Boy,  hee's  so  puft  vp  with  pride, 
They'l  marry  rich  Widdowes,  to  scoffe  and  deride. 

Oh  this  is  a  coozening  Age, 
O  this  is  a  coozening  Age. 


John  Cart. 

Wi)t  ^econb  ^art.   tlTo  tije  siame  l^une. 

Married  Woman. 

I  o    T)  Ut  stay,  who  comes  yonder  ?  'tis  well  yt  I  tarry'd : 

-L'  My  kinswoman  Katherin,  she  lately  was  mary'd, 
Shee  had  better  gone  to  the  Church  to  be  bury'd. 
With  her  now,  I  doubt,  things  are  otherwise  carryd. 

She  curseth  this  coozening  Age, 

She  curseth  this  coozening  Age. 

Young  Wife. 

I I  What  Cousin  and  neighbour,  are  you  met  together? 
'Tis  well  that  I  hapned  so  luckily  hither, 

1  Textzo^. 

R.p.G.  241  Q 


I  long  haue  desired  to  talke  with  you  either; 

Come,  stand  not  i'th  street,  let's  go  trauel  somwhither.^ 

Oh  fie  on  this  coozening  Age, 

Oh  fie  on  this  ^c. 

Both  to  the  young  Wife. 

12  Well,  how  dost  thou  like  of  thy  Husband,  good  Kate? 
We  heare  of  a  certaine  th'  art  marry'd  of  late 

With  a  wealthy  old  widdower,  to  better  thy  state, 
Who  loues  thee  as  deare  as  the  Turtle  his  mate: 

That's  rare  in  this  coozening  Age, 

That's  rare  &'c. 

Tong  Wife. 

13  Oh  woe  is  me.  Cousin,  that  euer  'twas  done, 
A  beggarly  slaue  my  affection  hath  wonne; 
He  brag'd  of  his  riches,  whereof  he  had  none, 
But  fiue  little  Children,  foure  Girles,  and  a  Sonne, 

Oh  fie  on  this  coozening^  Age, 
Oh  fie  on  this  ^c. 

14  When  he  came  a  wooing,  he  borrow'd  a  Cloake, 
And  Rings  to  his  fingers,  my  loue  to  prouoke; 
The  diuell  a  word  of  his  Children  he  spoke, 
But  now  we  are  marry'd,  I  find  that  hee's  broke. 

Oh  fie  on  this  coozening  Age, 
Oh  fie  on  this  &'c. 

1 5  Besides,  hee's  so  ielous,  that  if  I  but  looke 

On  any  Yong-man,  hee'l  be  sworne  on  a  booke,         1 
That  I  make  him  Cuckold  by  hooke  or  by  crooke; 
This  doting  suspition  no  woman  can  brooke. 
Oh  fie  on  this  doting  Age,  ^c. 

Mar.  Worn. 

16  It  seemes  then,  good  Kate,  we  are  both  alike  sped. 
Ill  fortune  had  we,  with  such  Husbands  to  wed: 
For  if  all  be  true  that  heere  thou  hast  sed, 

I  would  either  we,  or  our  Husbands  were  dead. 
Oh  fie  on  this  coozening  Age, 
Oh  fie  on  this  coozening  Age. 
1  No  period  in  the  text.  ^  Text  coozennig. 




17  Your  speeches  will  make  me  still  willing  to  tarry, 
Sith  VViddowes  and  Batchelors  both  doe  miscarry; 
Yet  'tis  said  in  London^  that  when  we  doe  bury 
Our  Husbands,  next  moneth  we  are  ready  to  marry; 

Oh  this  is  a  lying  Age^ 
Oh  this  is  ^c. 

1 8  Nay  more,  to  abash  vs,  the  Poets  o'th  times. 
Doe  blazon  vs  forth  in  their  Ballads  and  Rimes, 
With  bitter  inuectiue  satvricall  lines. 

As  though  we  had  done  some  notorious  crimes. 
Oh  this  is  a  scandalous  Age.^ 
Oh  this  is  &'c. 

19  I  would  I  the  Poet  could  get  in  my  clutches. 

He  were  better  write  ballads  against  ye  Arch-dutches : 
There  is  one  mad  ballad  that  sorely  vs  touches. 
The  hetroclite  Singer,  that  goes  vpon  Crutches, 

Doth  roare  out  the  Wiuing  Age, 

Doth  roare  out  ^c. 

20  But  'tis  no  great  matter,  let  Knaues  say  their  worst, 
And  swell  with  foule  enuy  vntill  they  doe  burst. 

I  keepe  you  so  long,  I  shall  make  you  be  curst, 
I  could  find  in  heart  to  stay  still,  if  you  durst: 

Oh  now  comes  the  -parting  Age^ 

Oh  now  comes  the  parting  Age. 


Printed  at  London  for  lohn  Trundle. 

243  Q2 


T'he  cheating  age 

Pepys,  I,  158,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

"The  Cheating  Age,"  one  of  a  series  of  "Age"  ballads,  was  printed 
before  1626.  Cf.  the  introductions  to  Nos.  41  and  42.  Lincolnshire 
Leonard  tells  rather  a  stupid  story,  though  not  half  bad  are  his  descriptions 
of  typical  London  sharpers.  Presumably  the  Poet  whom  he  mentions  as 
being  among  his  dubious  companions  was  a  ballad-writer.  William  Cooke 
is  not,  so  far  as  I  can  find,  represented  by  other  extant  ballads.  The 
"pleasant  new  tune"  to  which  the  ballad  is  to  be  sung  is  equivalent  to 
Whoop,  do  me  no  harm,  good  man  (cf.  No.  41). 

tlTfje  Cfjeating  ^ge : 
0x  LEONARD  of  Lincolnes  iournep  to  LONDON 

to  buj>  Wit 

To  a  pleasant  new  tune. 

I     TIJ^Rom  olde  famous  Lincolne  that's  seated  so  hye, 
-L     Well  mounted  and  furnisht,  with  gold  did  I  flye, 
To  Londons  fam'd  Citie  some  wit  for  to  buy, 
Which  cost  me  so  deare,  makes  me  sigh,  sob,  and  cry. 

For  this  is  the  cheating  Age^ 

For  this  is  the  cheating  Age. 

1    Before  I  had  entered  Bishops  wide  gate, 

The  Mouth  made  an  offer  as  if  it  would  prate : 
But  one  scrapt  acquaintance  vnto  my  hard  fate. 
And  made  me  consume  there  most  part  of  my  state. 
For  this  is  the  cheating  Age.,  &c. 

3    For  after  a  neate  comly  French  salutation, 
His  tongue  he  did  order  in  such  a  feat  fashion, 



As  I  for  to  heare  him  amazed  did  stand, 
But  he  in  the  Tauerne  me  pull'd  by  the  hand. 
For  this  is  the  cheating  Age^  ^c. 

4  When  each  one  had  tasted  a  cup  two  or  three, 
What  knowledge  of  Country  and  kindred  had  wee. 
How  bountifull  Bacchus  with  vs  did  agree, 

That  ne're  till  this  houre  did  each  other  see. 
For  this  is  the  cheating  Age^  i^c. 

5  He  askt  my  affaires  ?  I  made  him  reply : 

And  tolde  him  my  comming  was  wit  for  to  buy: 
(Ouoth  he)  rie  befriend  you  with  that  presently, 
He  vnlatcht  a  window  that  Westward  did  flye. 
For  this  is  the  cheating  age^  &c. 

6  Then  straight  a  strange  whistle  he  to  the  street  sends. 
Audaciously  blowne  from  his  Theeues  fingers  ends, 
The  Drawer  runs  vp,  sayes,  there's  some  of  your  friends 
Hath  call'd  for  some  wine,  and  your  comming  attends. 

For  this  is  the  cheating  Age^  ^c, 

7  He  cheard  me,  and  tolde  me,  for  them  he  had  sent: 
Should  teach  me  wit  gratis  ere  homeward  I  went : 
But  I  ne're  misdoubting,  the  Knauery  he  meant, 
Haue  swallow'd  a  baite  which  hath  made  me  repent. 

For  this  is  the  cheating  Age^  ^c. 

8  Up  straight  comes  a  Roarer  with  long  shaggy  lockes. 
New  broke  out  fro  Newgate,  the  Cage,  or  some  Stocks 
Or  else  from  the  Spittle,  halfe  cur'd  of  the  Pox, 

But  rie  carefull  be,  least  he  pepper  my  box. 
For  this  is  the  cheating  Age^  &'c. 

9  This  totterd  grim  Rascall  amaz'd  me  to  heare, 
The  terrible  oathes  which  for  nothing  he  sware. 
With  that  stampt  his  foote,  and  straightway  did  appeare 
Such  horrible  faces  that  made  me  to  feare. 

For  this  is  the  cheating  age^  i^c. 




lo    Up  marches  two  creatures  in  torne  totterd  cases, 
With  long  rustie  Rapiers,  swolne  eyes,  &  patcht  faces 
As  if  that  black  Pluto  from  Limbo  had  sent, 
These  horrid  grim  visions  to  make  vs  repent. 
For  this  is  the  cheating  age^  ^c. 

Cije  sieconb  part  Co  tije  siame  tunc. 

MY  former  Companion  straight  rise  from  the  boord, 
And  courteous  kinde  greeting  to  them  did  afford  : 
Saying,  pray  sir  bid  welcome  my  friends  of  the  sword, 
That  gaine  credit  by  deeds  sir,  and  not  by  their  word : 
For  this  is  the  cheating  age,  &'c. 

1 2  First  hauing  saluted,  we  sate  downe  againe. 
And  call'd  for  Tobacco,  burnt  Claret  amaine: 
The  Drawer  officious  to  giue  vs  our  bane, 

With  cups  plyde  vs  hard  to  put's  out  of  our  paine. 
For  this  is  the  cheating  age,  i^c. 

1 3  These  chimney-nos'd  Rascals  did  make  such  a  smother, 
I  ne're  saw  the  like  since  I  came  from  my  mother: 
Such  cloude  of  blew  vapour  fro  their  nosthrils  did  come, 
Had  like  for  to  choakt  me  and  fired  the  roome. 

For  this  is  the  cheating  age,  ^c. 

14  Then  vp  comes  a  Poet  with  a  Rooke  at  his  taile. 
That  feedes  all  the  Winter  of  Toasts  drown 'd  in  Ale, 
And  in  the  Summer  so  setteth  to  sale, 
Inuentions  of  others  before,  his  time  stale. 

For  this  is  the  cheating  age,  i^c. 

1 5  Then  straightway  one  calls  to  the  barre-Boy  for  Dice, 
Which  wrapt  in  a  paper,  was  brought  in  a  trice. 
Requesting  to  put  off  a  little  odde  time. 

They  would  play  for  no  more  then  a  pottle  of  Wine. 
For  this  is  the  cheating  age,  &'c. 



i6    I  gaue  my  consent,  and  with  them  did  play, 

From  wine  for  dry  money,  till  next  breake  of  day. 
Where  vext  at  my  losses,  I  set  at  one  cast. 
Full  forty  good  pounds  to  be  rid  of  my  last. 
For  this  is  the  cheating  age^  i^c. 

1 7  My  money  being  set,  the  cast  straight  was  throwne, 
And  he  like  the  diuell  cride.  All  is  mine  owne: 

So  euery  penny  he  from  me  did  get. 
And  bad  me  to  Lincolne  goe  backe  by  my  wit. 
For  this  is  the  cheating  age^  &'c. 

1 8  They  hauing  my  money,  did  all  steale  away, 
And  left  me  with  nothing,  fiue  pound  for  to  pay : 
But  my  cloake  lin'd  with  veluet,  &  my  rapier  guilt  gay, 
Did  make  cleane  the  score,  and  all  charges  defray, 

For  this  is  the  cheating  age^  ^c. 

1 9  A  Pox  of  all  Cheaters,  and  grim  roaring  Boyes  : 
All  rooking  base  Pandars  and  nitty  Decoyes : 
And  all  that  make  practise  to  thriue  by  such  fits, 
The  three  cornerd  night-cap  once  cocker  their  wits. 

For  this  is  the  cheating  age^  ^c. 

20  Now  Leonard  of  Lincolne  with  griefe  bids  adiew: 
My  iourney  to  London  long  time  I  shall  rue : 

I  ne're  in  my  life  met  with  villaines  so  vilde. 
To  send  a  man  home  like  the  Prodigall  Childe. 

For  this  is  the  cheating  age^ 

For  this  is  the  cheating  age. 

JfinisJ.  By  William  Cooke. 

Printed  at  London  by  E.J.  for  lohn  Wright. 



T'he  life  and  death  of  Mr  George 



Pepys,  I,  128,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

This  is  a  fine  example  of  a  "hanging  ballad,"  though  a  bit  more  hostile 
in  tone  than  is  customary.  The  hostility  of  the  ballad-writer  is  certainly 
excusable,  for  Mr  George  Sandys,  his  father  Sir  George,  and  his  mother 
Lady  Susanna  were  notorious  rotters,  inveterate  criminals.  Abundant 
information  about  the  three — for  much  of  which  I  am  indebted  to  Pro- 
fessor Kittredge — is  available. 

On  August  10,  1616,  Sir  George  Sandys  was  indicted  in  the  Middlesex 
Sessions  on  four  counts:  (i)  for  assaulting  and  robbing  Anthony  Culver- 
well  of  a  cloak  and  a  watch  worth  forty  shillings  each;  (2)  for  assaulting 
and  robbing  John  Foxe  of  personal  property  to  the  value  of  fifteen  shillings; 
(3)  for  assaulting  and  robbing  John  Marston  of  "a  blacke  roned  gelding 
worth  ten  pounds"  and  valuable  personal  property;  (4)  for  assaulting  and 
robbing  Robert  Wright  of  "a  grey  gelding  worth  seven  pounds,  a  chest- 
nutt  bay  gelding  worth  eight  pounds,  three  saddles  worth  forty  shillings," 
and  so  on.  Sir  George  pleaded  "not  guilty,"  and  the  trial  resulted  in  his 
acquittal  (Jeaffreson's  Middlesex  County  Records,  11,  125).  On  August  21 
M.  de  Tourval  wrote  to  Francis  Windebank  {Calendar  of  State  Papers, 
Domestic,  1611-18,  p.  391)  that  Sir  George  Sandys  and  others  were 
hanged  for  highway  robberies  at  Kensington  "of  twelve  or  thirteen  per- 
sons in  an  evening."  It  is  hardly  credible  that  there  were  two  highway 
robbers  of  the  same  name  and  title;  and  as  our  Sir  George  was  acquitted 
by  the  courts  sometime  in  August  after  the  tenth,  it  seems  reasonable  to 
suppose  that  Tourval  had  this  trial  in  mind  and  was  misinformed  about 
the  verdict. 

On  June  i,  16 17  (JeafFreson,  op.  cit.  11,  131),  "Sir  George  Sandes  knt., 
his  wife  Susannah  Lady  Sandes,  and  George  Sandes  gentleman,  all  three 
of  Endfield,"  were  indicted  for  being  absent  for  a  whole  month  from 
church ! — evidence  that,  whatever  their  other  faults,  they  were  not  sancti- 
monious lip-servers  of  religion.  But  in  spite  of  these  peremptory  warnings, 
Sir  George  did  not  mend  his  ways;  and,  according  to  a  letter  written  by 
Sir  Gerard  Herbert  to  Sir  Dudley  Carleton  {Calendar  of  State  Papers, 
Domestic,  1611-18,  p.  527),  he  was  hanged  about  March  10,  1618,  "at 
Wapping  for  taking  purses  on  the  highway,  having  been  formerly  pardoned 
for  like  offences;  his  lady  and  son  [are]  in  prison  as  accomplices." 



The  son  and  mother  were,  as  the  ballad  says,  thoroughly  depraved. 
John  Chamberlain  wrote  to  Carleton  on  January  23,  1619  {Calendar  of 
State  Papers,  Domestic,  1619-23,  p.  8),  that  "Lady  Sandys,  whose  husband 
was  hanged  for  robbery,  has  herself  turned  thief."  Similar  charges  were 
soon  made  against  George.  On  September  22,  16 19  (JeafFreson,  op.  cit. 
II,  149),  he  was  indicted  on  the  charge  of  stealing  "a  gray  gelding  worth 
five  pounds  of  the  goods  and  chattels  of  Sir  Peter  Temple  knt.",  but  pleaded 
"not  guilty"  and  was  acquitted.  The  following  passage  gives  an  account 
of  the  crime  which  in  stanza  8  Sandys  is  said  to  have  committed: 

25  July,  2  Charles  I. — True  Bill  that,  at  the  parish  of  St.  Pancras  co.  Midd. 
on  the  said  day,  George  Sandes  late  of  St.  Giles's-in-the-Fields  co.  Midd. 
gentleman  assaulted  Jane  Wrighte, .  .  .and  murdered  her  by  putting  one  leather 
brayded  rayne  round  her  neck,  and  forthwith  strangling  and  suffocating  her 
with  the  said  rayne,  so  that  she  then  and  there  died  instantly;  and  that  afterwards 
on  the  same  day,  knowing  him  to  have  committed  the  said  murder,  Suzan  Lady 
Sandes,  James  Jones  yoman  and  Edward  Gent  gendeman  [or  rather  j^-ow^w], 
all  three  late  of  St.  Giles's-in-the-Field,  received,  harboured  and  comforted  the 
said  George  Sandes  at  the  same  last-named  parish. 

Jeaffreson  {op.  cit.  in,  11)  remarks  that  over  the  names  of  the  accused 
"appear  the  words  'po  se'  =  he  (or  she)  put  himself  (or  herself)  'Not 
Guilty'  on  a  jury  of  the  country.  No  other  minute  [appears]  on  the  face 
of  the  indictment."  From  the  comments  made  by  the  ballad-writer  it 
seems  that  Sandys  with  his  companions  was  acquitted  of  this  charge 
though  afterwards  he  made  an  inadvertent  confession  of  its  truth  to 
another  woman  whom  he  assaulted — to  the  Honor  Rudston  of  the  follow- 
ing indictment: 

28  August,  2  Charles  I. — True  Bill  that,  at  St.  Giles's-in-the-Fields  co. 
Midd.  on  the  said  day,  George  Sandes  gentleman,  James  Jones  yoman,  and 
Edward  Gent  yoman,  all  late  of  the  said  parish,  assaulted  Honor  Rudston, . . . 
and  that  the  said  George  Sandes  gendeman  then  and  there  'rapuit  et  carnaliter 
cognovit'  the  said  Honor  Rudston,  against  her  will  and  without  her  consent. 

On  this  indictment  all  three  men  were  found  guilty  and  were  sentenced  to 
be  hanged  (Jeaffreson,  op.  cit.  iii,  1 1).  After  their  execution  the  ballad  was 

From  these  records  it  appears  that  the  author  of  the  ballad,  though 
rightly  hostile  to  Sandys,  has  too  much  sympathy  for  James  Jones  and 
Edward  Gent  and  that  they  were  not  the  passive  tools  and  dupes  he 
describes.  The  valedictory  poem — said  to  be  of  Jones's  own  composition 
— with  which  the  ballad  ends,  hardly  suggests  that  English  poetry  suffered 
a  loss  by  the  untimely  end  of  Jones.  In  any  case  his  claim  to  the  authorship 
of  this  poem  is  very  doubtful  indeed.  "Neck  verses"  like  these  were  the 
stock  in  trade  of  the  professional  balladists,  who  with  no  compunction 
thrust  them  on  any  criminal  that  was  available. 

The  tune  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  198. 



^ijf  life  anb  beat!)  ot  iH.  Geo:  Sands,  tajfjo  after  ntanp 

enormou£f  crimes!  tip  tint  committeb,  tDitf)  /o/;£'j  anb 

Gent  tisf  confeberateg,  toag  executeb  at  tKpburne  on 

Zliaiebnegbap  tije  6  of  September,  X626. 

To  the  tune  of  Flying  Fame. 

COme  hither  yongmen  and  giue  eare, 
and  good  example  take, 
By  this  which  is  related  here 

for  admonitions  sake, 
Wherein  is  showne  the  life  and  death, 

of  Sands  that  noted  theefe. 
The  reason  why  he  lost  his  breath, 
is  here  declar'd  in  briefe. 



1    That  all  young  men  from  him  may  learne 

to  Hue  in  better  awe, 
Foule  vice  from  vertue  to  discerne, 

according  to  the  law: 
A  wicked  life  this  caitiffe  led, 

reiecting  vertues  lore. 
The  grace  of  God  from  him  was  fled, 

all  good  he  did  abhorre. 

3  Since  first  he  came  to  any  strength, 

he  practis'd  nought  but  stealing, 
Which  brought  a  shamefull  death  at  length 

for  his  vngracious  dealing. 
He  alwayes  hath  himselfe  maintain'd 

by  base  sinister  courses, 
And  oftentimes  hath  beene  araign'd 

by  Law,  for  stealing  horses. 

4  Yet  still  it  was  his  lucke  to  scape; 

which  hardned  him  in  euill. 
From  theft  to  murder,  and  to  rape, 

suborned  by  the  Deuill, 
His  wicked  heart  so  bent  to  sin, 

in  villany  tooke  pride. 
There  liued  scarce  the  like  of  him, 

in  all  the  Land  beside. 

j"    His  name  so  infamous  was  growne 

to  all  both  far  and  neere. 
And  he  tooke  pride  to  haue  it  knowne, 

as  by  him  did  appeare. 
For  when  he  was  araign'd  of  late, 

at  the  Tribunall  seat. 
He  seemed  to  exhilerate, 

at  his  offences  great. 

6    And  boasted  that  he  oftentimes 
had  scap't  the  fatall  cord. 
For  stealing  horses,  and  such  crimes, 
as  high  wayes  doe  afford, 



And  with  a  brauing  impudence, 

he  did  the  Bench  outface, 
Not  shewing  any  reuerence, 

to  any  in  that  place. 

7  The  facts  he  was  indited  for, 

were  three  enormous^  sinnes, 
Which  God  and  nature  doth  abhor, 

the  least  damnation  winnes. 
Without  the  speciall  grace  of  God, 

for  which  he  neuer  sought. 
Nor  neuer  seemed  to  be  sad, 

for  that  which  he  had  wrought. 

8  The  Maid  that  on  Saint  lames  his  day, 

was  found  neere  Holborne  dead, 
Tis  thought  this  wretch  did  make  away, 

if  all  be  true  that's  sed. 
From  her  he  tooke  away  twelue  pound, 

and  then  to  make  all  sure, 
He  strangled  her,  as  she  was  found, 

his  safety  to  procure. 

W^t  fiieconb  part.  Co  ti)e  £(ame  tune. 


Ut  no  such  crimes  can  be  conceaFd, 
old  time  will  find  them  out. 
And  haue  them  to  the  world  reueal'd, 

and  publisht  all  about. 
As  this  strange  murder  came  to  light, 

by  Sands  his  owne  confession. 
When  as  he  sought  with  all  his  might, 
to  act  a  foule  transgression, 

lo   Vpon  the  body  of  a  Maid, 

whom  he  perforce  did  rauish, 
If  she  oppos'd  his  will  he  said, 
with  speeches  somewhat  lauish: 
^  Text  enornous. 


That  if  she  did  deny  to  yeeld 

to  him,  hee'd  serue  her  so, 
As  he  did  one  in  Holborne  field 

not  very  long  agoe, 

1 1  To  this  foule  sin  of  rauishment 

he  likewise  did  seduce 
Another  youngman,  whose  consent 

gaue  ayd  to  this  abuse. 
For  which  by  law  he  hath  his  doome, 

to  suffer  shamefully. 
Take  heed  young  men  how  you  do  come 

into  leud  company. 

1 2  For  if  young  lones  had  neuer  seene 

this  wicked  Sands  his  face. 
He  surely  now  had  liuing  beene, 

but  wanting  Gods  good  grace, 
He  was  allured  by  his  meanes 

to  Hue  by  lawlesse  stealth, 
Thus  to  maintaine  strong  drink  &  queanes 

he  robd  the  commonwealth. 

1 3  Some  other  men  of  good  regard, 

he  did  to  robbery  draw. 
All  these  with  him  in  death  haue  shar'd, 

according  to  the  Law. 
But  he  the  chiefe  occasion  was 

of  these  same  youngmens  ends. 
Whose  deaths  haue  brought  to  wofull  passe 

their  parents  and  their  friends, 

1 4  Among  the  rest  one  father  lones^ 

an  honest  ancient  man. 
With  lachrimable  teares  bemones 

the  losse  of  his  owne  son. 
But  Sands  hath  run  so  vild  a  race, 

that  few  bewaile  his  death. 
How  many  flockt  with  ioy  to  th'  place 

where  he  did  lose  his  breath. 


15  His  father  named  Sir  George  Sands^ 

when  by  his  carelesse  dealing, 
He  had  quite  wasted  goods  and  lands, 

did  Hue  long  time  by  stealing: 
And  with  his  wicked  Lady  wife, 

did  rob  the  highway  side, 
For  which  at  length  he  lost  his  life, 

and  by  base  hanging  dyde. 

16  Thus  both  the  father  and  the  sonne 

did  end  their  Hues  alike, 
The  Lady  yet  hath  scapt  that  death, 

and  sorrow  doth  her  strike. 
God  grant  her  life  may  now  be  such, 

that  men  of  her  may  say. 
Her  life  was  leud,  yet  now  shee's  prou'd 

a  conuert  at  last  day. 

1 7  Loe  here  you  see  a  fearfull  end,  j. 

of  Sir  George  Sands  his  sonne,  I' 

Let  euery  one  a  warning  take,  '^ 

and  better  courses  runne:  I 

Which  to  effect  let  vs  all  pray  ;| 

to  him  that  gaue  vs  breath,  ' 
That  of  his  mercy  he'll  vs  keepe 

from  such  vntimely  death. 

The  following  lines  lones  writ  with  his  owne  hand,  a 
little  before  his  death. 

1 8     ^7^0  me  death  is  no  death,  but  life  for  euer. 
J-   My  ioy  in  heauen  is,  which  endeth  neuer. 
Lord  thou  hast  promist  to  the  penitent. 
That  thou  wilt  saue  him  if  he  doe  repent: 
And  now  most  gratious  Lord,  I  craue  of  thee^ 
Mercy  for  him  that  hath  contemned  thee, 

1  Text  has  a  period. 


I  am  a  sinner  {Lord)  thou  knows 1 1  am. 
And  full  of  ill,  ahoue  an  other  man, 
Tet  am  I  free  from  th''^  fault  for  which  I  dye, 
But  haue  transgrest  the  Lawes  most  hainously. 
Oh  saue  my  soule,  O  hord  of  thee  I  craue. 
Let  that  mount  vp,  though  body  rot  in  graue. 

Printed  at  London  for  F.  Couls,  and  are  to  be  sold 

at  his  shop  at  the  vpper  end  of  the  Old  Baily 

neere  Newgate. 

1  Text  '//^. 



yohn  Spenser^  a  Cheshire  gallant 

Pepys,  I,  114,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns.  The  first  part  is  in  B.L., 
the  second  in  roman  and  italic  type. 

Some  Cheshire  antiquary  may  know  the  facts  of  John  Spenser's  lewd  life 
and  melancholy  death,  but  I  have  found  nothing  to  add  to  the  account 
given  in  the  ballad.  Thomas  Dickerson,  too,  is  a  name  unfamiliar  in 
balladry:  had  he  come  earlier,  his  initials  at  the  end  of  ballads  would  have 
caused  confusion  with  those  of  Thomas  Deloney.  Dickerson,  of  course, 
also  wrote  the  second  part,  though  he  foists  the  authorship  upon  John 
Spenser  himself.  This  is  a  splendid  ballad  of  its  particular  kind.  Spenser's 
repentance  is  thoroughly  edifying:  it  is  a  bit  curious,  perhaps,  that  a  man 
so  widely  loved  as  he  is  said  to  have  been  should  have  kept  this  love  during 
a  whole  life  of  dissipation  and  have  lost  it  for  "one  offence  but  small," 
even  though  that  small  offence  was  murder.  It  is  also  a  pity  that  he  delayed 
so  long  in  subscribing  to  the  sentiments  of  "A  Constant  Wife  and  a  Kind 
Wife,  a  Loving  Wife  and  a  Fine  Wife,  Which  Gives  Content  unto  Man's 
Life,"  a  ballad  (Pepys,  i,  390;  iv,  82;  Lord  Crawford,  Catalogue  of  English 
Ballads,  No.  1456;  etc.)  to  which  in  several  verses  he  seems  to  be  referring. 
For  Spenser  the  author  evidently  had  much  sympathy,  and  the  mention 
of  the  two  milk-white  butterflies  and  the  two  milk-white  doves  that  alighted 
on  the  body  of  the  dangling  corpse  seems  to  indicate  that  Spenser  actually 
was  innocent.  At  least  it  is  an  unmistakable  sign  that  Spenser's  repentance 
had  been  so  sincere  as  to  win  complete  forgiveness.  As  John  Trundle 
printed  the  ballad,  its  date  may  be  assumed  to  be  1626.  The  tune  may  be 
equivalent  to  Rogero  {Popular  Music,  \,  94). 



Sofjn  ^pensier  a  €f)ti&i)ivt  (gallant,  i^i&  life  anb 
repentance,  tofjo  for  feilling  of  one  Banball  #am :  bjajf 
latelp  executeb  at  Burford  a  mile  from  Nantwkh. 

To  the  tune  of  in  Slumbr'ing  Sleepe. 

1  TV^  Ind  hearted  men,  a  while  geue  eare 
1  V.  and  plainely  He  vnfold 

The  saddest  tale  that  euer  yet, 

by  mortall  man  was  told. 
One  Spenser  braue,  of  Cheshire  chiefe, 

for  men  of  braue  regarde : 
Yet  hee  vnto  his  Countries  griefe, 

did  good  with  ill  reward. 

2  At  Acton ^  neere  Nantwkh  was  borne 

this  man,  so  famde  of  all; 
Whose  skill  at  each  braue  exercise, 

was  not  accounted  small : 
For  beating  of  the  war-like  Drumme, 

no  man  could  him  surpasse: 
For  dauncing,  leaping,  and  such  like, 

in  Cheshire  neuer  was. 

3  For  shooting  none  durst  him  oppose, 

hee  would  ayme  so  faire  and  right; 
Yet  long  he  shot  in  crooked  Bowes, 

and  could  not  hit  the  white: 
For  striuing  still  more  things  to  learne, 

the  more  he  grew  beloued; 
No  Shomaker  but  Spenser  braue, 

by  women  was  so  prooued. 

4  Those  qualities  did  draw  his  minde, 

from  reason  quite  and  cleane, 
And  vildly  hee'd  forsake  his  wife, 

for  the  loue  of  euery  Oueane: 
By  Women  he  maintayned  was 

in  parill  fine  and  braue, 

257  R 

R.P.  G 


lohn  Spenser  could  no  good  thing  want, 
for  he  could  but  aske,  and  haue. 

5  In  Silkes  and  Sattins  would  he  goe, 

none  might  with  him  compare; 
No  fashion  might  deuised  be, 

but  his  should  be  as  faire; 
When  as  (God  knowes)  his  wife  at  home 

should  pine  with  hungry  griefe, 
And  none  would  pitty  her  hard  case, 

or  lend  her  some  reliefe. 

6  Whilst  hee  abroad  did  flaunt  it  out 

amongst  his  lustfull  Queanes, 
Poore  soule  of  force  she  sits  at  home, 

without  either  helpe  or  meanes. 
Thus  long  he  liued  basely  vild, 

contemd  of  all  thats  good, 
Till  at  the  last  by  hard  mischance, 

he  did  shead  Giltlesse  Blood. 

7  One  Randall  Gam  being  drunke, 

with  Spenser  out  did  fall : 
And  he  being  apt  to  Quarilling, 

would  not  be  rul'd  at  all. 
But  about  the  Pledging  of  a  Glasse, 

to  which  he  would  not  yeeld. 
He  vowed  he  either  would  be  pledg'd 

or  answered  fayre  in  field. 

8  This  answer  Randall  Gam  did  deny, 

which  Spencer  plainly  found. 
And  being  rag'd  he  strucke  on^  blow, 

feld  Randal  gam  to  the  ground. 
Seuen  weekes  vpon  this  he  lay, 

ere  life  from  him  did  part : 
And  at  the  last  to  earth  and  clay, 

his  Body  did  conuert. 

1  I.e.  one. 


9    Then  Spenser  was  in  prison  cast 

his  friends  full  farre  did  ly, 
For  frindship  in  them  proued  cold, 

and  none  would  come  him  nie. 
That  man  being  kild,  beloued  was  well 

of  all  men  farre  and  neare. 
And  some  did  follow  Law  so  farre, 

did  cost  poore  Spenser  deare. 

10  For  though  he  kild  him  by  mischance, 

yet  Law  him  so  disdaines,^ 
That  for  his  vnrespected  blow, 

he  there  was  hangd  in  Chaines. 
He  that  was  kild,  had  many  friends, 

the  other  few  or  none. 
Therefore  the  Law,  on  that  side  went, 

and  the  other  was  orethrone. 

1 1  He  being  dead,  two  Milkewhite  Doues, 

did  houer  ouer  his  head, 
And  would  not  leaue  that  hartlesse  place, 

after  he  three  howers  was  dead. 
Two  milke  white  Butterflies  did  light, 

vpon  his  Breches  there: 
And  stood  Confronting  peoples  sight, 

to  their  amase  and  feare. 

12  Though  he  was  vildly  bent  in  life, 

and  hangd  the  Law  to  quit: 
Yet  he  was  stolne  away  by  his  wife, 

and  Buryed  in  the  night. 
His  true  repentance  is  exprest, 

within  the  second  part: 
With  all  his  Gilt  he  hath  confest, 

when  troubled  was  his  heart. 

jFiniSt.     by  Thomas  Dickerson. 
^  Text  has  a  period. 

259  R2 


HJofjn  ^pcnsier  U^  3^tptntmtt  in  ^rision, 
Wivitttn  tDttt  W  otDne  tantrsi  asi  te  la|)  m  €i^titev  Casitle. 

^0  tfje  sfame  tune. 

1 3  J^Ind  Toungmen  all  to  mee  giue  eare^ 
-^^   obserue  these  lessons  well; 

For  vndeserued  my  death  I  tooke^ 

and  sad  is  the  tale  I  tell. 
I  -prisond  pent.,  I  lie  full  fast^ 

sure  Heauen  hath  decreed: 
That  though  I  thriued,  yet  at  last, 

bad  fortunes  should  proceed. 

14  /  that  for  practise  passed  all, 

in  exercises  strong, 
Haue  heere  for  one  offence  but  small, 

been  pent  in  Prison  long. 
Kind  Countrymen  fairs  warning  take, 

beeing  bad,  amend  your  Hues, 
For  sure  Heauen  will  them  forsake, 

that  doe  forsake  their  wiues. 

I  ^   I  haue  a  wife,  a  louing  wife, 

a  constant,  and  a  kind; 
Tet  proud  of  gifts,  I  turnd  my  life, 

and  fake  she  did  me  find: 
Heauen  shewed  his  part  in  making  me, 

proper  in  limbes  and  face. 
Yet  of  it  I  no  true  vse  made, 

but  reapt  thereby  disgrace. 

1 6    For  being  proud  in  dancings  art, 

most  womens  hues  I  gaynd: 
By  them  a  long  time  was  my  life 

in  gallant  sort  maintaynd: 
No  May  den  young,  about  the  towne, 

but  ioyfull  was  to  see 
The  face  of  Spenser,  and  would  spend, 

all  for  to  daunce  with  mee. 



17  /  spent  my  time  in  Ryoting^ 

and  proudly  led  my  life^ 
I  had  my  choyce  of  damsels  fayre^ 

what  card  I  for  my  wife^ 
If  once  she  came  to  intreat  me  home^ 

Fd  kick  her  out  of  doors ^ 
Indeed  I  would  he  ruld  by  none^ 

but  by  intising  whores, 

18  At  length  being  pledging  of  a  Glasse^ 

my  hopes  I  did  confound: 
And  in  my  rag^  If  eld  my  friend^ 

with  one  blow  to  the  ground. 
For  this  offence^  he  being  dead^ 

and  I  in  Prison  cast: 
Most  voyd  of  hopes  this  rashing  hand 

hath  Spensers  name  disgrast. 

1 9  None  but  my  wife  will  visit  me, 

for  those  I  loud  before. 
Being  in  this  sad  extremytie, 

will  visit  me  no  more. 
No  helpe  I  find  from  these  false  friends, 

no  food  to  inrich  my  life: 
Now  doe  I  find  the  difference  true, 

twixt  them  and  a  constant  wife. 

20  But  she  poore  soule,  by  my  bad  meanes, 

is  quit  bereft  of  all: 
She  playes  the  part  of  a  Constant  wife, 

although  her  helpes  be  small. 
Toung  men,  youngmen,  take  heed  by  me 

shun  Dangers,  Brawles,  and  Strife: 
For  though  he  fell  against  my  will, 

I  for  it  loose  my  life. 

21  O  Hue  like  men  and  not  like  me, 

of  no  good  giftes  be  proud: 

^  I.e.  rage. 


For  if  with  you  God  angry  he^ 

from  his  vengeance  nought  can  shroud. 
Make  vse  of  what  you  haue  -practis' d  well^ 

and  not  in  vitious  meanes^ 
If  in  rare  gifts  you  do  excell^ 

yet  trust  not  Vitious  Queanes. 

22    For  lust  doth  fully  fill  their  Vaynes^ 

and  apt  they  be  to  intise: 
O  therefore  shunne  their  company^  j 

like  good  men  still  be  wise.  I 

Example  truely  take  of  me.,  1 

all  Vitious  courses  shunne: 
For  onely  by  bad  company., 

poore  Spenser  is  vndone. 

jFillisS.     by  lohn  Spenser. 
Imprinted  at  London  for  I.  Trundle. 




Nobody^ s  counsel  to  choose  a  wife 

Pepys,  I,  382,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  six  columns. 

The  printer,  A.M.,  was  probably  Augustine  Matthewes,  whose  publica- 
tions appeared  during  1619-1638.  The  exact  date  of  this  ballad  cannot  be 
determined,  but  may  be  assumed  to  be  about  1626.  It  is  only  another 
instance  of  the  enjoyment  ballad-writers  derived  from  comparing  the 
respective  merits  of  widows  and  maidens  as  wives.  Here  the  comparison 
is  all  to  the  advantage  of  widows,  and  the  author  found  it  convenient  to 
hide  his  identity  under  the  notn  de  guerre  of  Nobody.  In  spite  of  their 
merits,  however,  widows  were,  according  to  ballad-writers,  often  unlucky 
in  choosing  husbands:  an  interesting  ballad  in  which  this  ill  luck  is  pointed 
out  occurs  in  the  Pepys  Collection  (i,  284) — "A  merry  new  Song  of  A 
rich  Widdowes  wooing.  That  married  a  young  man  to  her  owne  vndooing." 
For  comments  on  the  tune  see  the  introduction  to  No.  49. 

i^oijobp  f)»s!  Counsiaile  to  ctjusie  a  OTifc : 
(^r,  tlTfje  bifference  tjettoeene  OTibbotoeg  anb  iHapbesi. 

To  the  Tune  of  the  wanton  Wife  of  Westminster. 

Et  Young  men  giue  eare 
vnto  that  I  reherse, 
And  thinke  good  the  subiect 

though  set  downe  in  verse: 
Nobody  vnto  you, 

will  kindly  relate: 
The  difference  twixt  Maydens 

and  Widdowes  estate, 
When  ere  they  be  had, 

they  both  will  proue  bad: 



Yet  he  that  a  Widdow  takes, 

most  may  be  glad: 
For  Maydens  are  wanton 

and  often  times  coy: 
But  Widdowes  be  wilfull 

and  neuer  say  nay. 

1    That  man  that  doth  woe  a  mayd, 

must  be  compeld : 
To  Hue  like  an  honest  life 

ere  she  will  yeeld : 
He  sometimes  must  coll  her 

and  often  times  kisse  her, 
Yet  may  another  gaine, 

he  may  chance  misse  her: 
He  Hues  like  a  slaue, 

must  doe  what  she'le^  haue: 
He  must  not  deny 

whatsoere  she  doth  craue. 
For  Maydens^  i^c. 

3  But  take  me  a  Widdow, 

who  if  you  doe  woe  her : 
Will  yeeld  with  the  soonest, 

when  ere  you  come  to  her : 
She  will  be  as  willing, 

to  yeeld  to  a  man : 
As  he  that  doth  woe  her, 

make  what  speede  he  can : 
Shee'le^  giue  him  content, 

for  what  he  hath  spent: 
If  he  that  doth  woe  her, 

to  true  loue  be  bent. 
For  Maydens^  ^c. 

4  He  that  a  Mayd  marries 

is  caught  in  the  lurch, 
He  must  neuer  let  her 
goe  often  to  Church: 

1   TVAT/shel'e.  2  2V;tr/ Sheel'e. 



Least  thinking  by  that  meanes, 

some  goodnesse  to  teach  her: 
She  larne  some  new  fashion, 

and  minde  not  the  Preacher: 
Then  when  she  comes  home, 

shee'le^  pine,  and  sheele  mone: 
With  sweete  heart  let  me 

haue  that  fashion  or  none. 
For  maydens^  &c, 

5  He  that's  matcht  with  a  widdow, 

by  that  is  a  winner: 
Shee'le^  stay  and  heare  Seruice, 

and  then  prouide  dinner: 
Shee  is  twise  in  a  Saboath, 

at  Church  like  a  Woman : 
And  not  to  learne  fashions, 

as  some  doe  most  common: 
Shee  loues  to  goe  plaine, 

let  who  will  disdaine: 
Shee  needs  must  goe  so, 

that  hath  had  Husbands  twain : 
For  Maydens^  ^c. 

6  And  if  a  young  Bell[e]2 

doe  chance  for  to  swell: 
That  man  that  begot  it, 

were  as  good  Hue  in  Hell: 
For  she  will  be  calling 

for  one  thing  or  other. 
It  may  be  shee's  ioyfull 

shee  shall  be  a  Mother: 
Then  the  man  must  disburse, 

to  hire  a  Nurse, 
With  twenty  things  more, 

which  is  marryed  mens  curse. 
For  May  dens,  ^c, 

1   Text  Sheel'e.  2  Torn. 



7  He  that  deales  with  a  Widdow, 

hath  these  at  command : 
He  takes  a  commodity 

broke  to  his  hand, 
He  neede  not  stand  carking, 

for  linnen  nor  Cradle: 
If  he  bestow  getting, 

to  keepe  it  shees  able: 
She  seldome  will  pray, 

her  Husband  to  pay: 
If  he  bestow  night  worke, 

then  sheele  bestow  day. 
For  May  dens  are  wanton 

and  often  times  coy: 
But  Widdowes  he  wilfully 

and  neuer  say  nay. 

^i)t  geconb  part/  to  tte  sJame  tune. 

8  A  Younge  Wife  must  haue  gossips, 
^t\.  were  nere  had  before 

She  scornes  to  haue  any 

are  iudgd  to  be  poore: 
Great  Banquets  sheele  make  them, 

no  cost  shall  be  spard: 
Her  poore  husbands  purse 

shee  doth  neuer  regard, 
W^ith  pray  be  not  sad, 

tis  the  first  that  I  had : 
My  Husband  and  I, 

haue  cause  to  be  glad. 
For  Maydens  are  wanton^ 

and  often  times  coy: 
But  widdowes  he  wilfully 

and  neuer  say  nay. 

9  A  widdow  to  saue  all 

these  charges  will  shift. 
^  Text  has  a  period. 



For  she  can  haue  Gossips 

at  any  dead  lift: 
Sheele  bid  them  as  welcome, 

to  one  ioynt  of  rost : 
As  your  new  married  Cupple, 

shall  with  all  their  cost: 
Sheele  say  man  be  wise, 

spend  what  may  suffice: 
For  Houserent  and  all  things, 

beginneth  to  rise. 
For  Maydens^  &'c. 

10  A  young  Wife  is  crabbed, 

and  takes  a  delight: 
If  her  mayd  doe  but  crosse  her, 

to  speake  and  then  smight : 
Shee  neuer  is  well 

but  a  breeding  debate, 
Shee'le  make  her  young  husband, 

his  prentises  hate: 
No  seruants  will  stay, 

man  and  mayde  will  away: 
By  this  meanes  she  worketh, 

her  Husbands  decay: 
For  Maydens^  ^c. 

1 1  A  Widdow  will  neuer 

be  frov/ard  to  such, 
Sheele  vse  them  as  kindly, 

and  then  theyle  doe  much : 
Theyle  call  her  kind  Mistris, 

and  alwayes  worke  faster: 
Because  they  Hue  quiet 

with  her,  and  their  master: 
She  still  beares  the  mind, 

to  vse  seruants  kinde: 
That  she  and  her  husband 

much  profit  may  finde. 
For  Maydens^  ^c. 



12  A  young  wife  must  allwayes, 

in  house  be  halfe  Master: 
Or  else  her  tongue  gallops, 

no  Mill-clacke  goes  faster: 
If  he  doe  denie  her, 

a  needlesse  request: 
Sheed  haue  it  by  some  meanes, 

or  make  him  a  beast: 
With  rascal]  and  slaue, 

giue  me  what  I  craue: 
Or  else  by  this  light, 

thou  no  quiet  shalt  haue: 
For  Maydens^  &c. 

1 3  A  Widdow  will  alwayes, 

looke  well  to  her  home: 
Let  him  doe  his  businesse 

or  let  it  alone, 
Sheele  buy  what  is  needfull 

to  serue  her  owne  vse: 
In  words  she  will  neuer 

her  Husband  abuse. 
Abroad  she  is  kinde, 

in  bed  he  shall  finde: 
A  woman  that  striue  will, 

to  pleasure  his  mind: 
For  Maydens,  ^c. 

14  A  young  Wife  will  wauer^ 

as  oft  as  the  winde. 
An  old  wife  is  fixed 

naught  changeth  her  mind: 
A  young  wife  once  crost, 

continually  doth  frowne: 
But  crosse  once  an  old  wife, 

her  mind  will  reforme : 
A  young  wife  will  brawle, 

if  she  rule  not  all : 
1  Text  vauer. 



A  widdow  will  rule 

what  to  her  doth  befall: 
For  MaydenSy  &'c. 

1 5  Much  more  I  could  speake, 

but  to  tell  you  the  troth : 
To  prayse  and  to  disprayse 

too  much,  I  am  loath: 
I  would  not  be  partiall, 

on  one  side  nor  other : 
Did  they  to  their  deserue, 

I  would  speake  well  of  tother : 
My  iudgements  not  blind, 

I  speake  as  I  find: 
None  will  take  exceptions, 

for  speaking  my  mind. 
For  MaydenSy  i^c. 

1 6  I  speake  not  of  all  Maydes, 

that  are  to  be  had: 
Tis  pitty  mongst  thousands, 

if  all  should  be  bad : 
Nay  some  widdowes  likewise, 

may  worse  be  then  they: 
Both  sortes  are  too  wicked, 

no  man  will  gaine  say: 
With  this  I  doe  end, 

hoping  none  I  offend: 
If  I  wed,  with  a  widdow 

my  dayes  I  will  spend. 
For  Maydens  are  wanton^ 

and  oftentimes  coy: 
But  Widdowes  be  wilfully 

and  neuer  say  nay. 

Printed  at  London  by  A.M. 


Every  man*s  condition 

Pepys,  I,  220,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Ll[ewellyn]  Morg[an]  is  a  name  new  to  English  balladry:  I  have  found 
no  further  trace  of  his  name  or  his  ballads,  unless  he  was  the  L.M.  whose 
initials  are  signed  to  "An  excellent  Ditty,  both  merry  and  witty.  Expressing 
the  love  of  the  Youthes  of  the  City, .  .  .  To  a  pleasant  new  tune,  or  the  two 
lovely  Lovers,"  printed  by  John  Grismond  (Pepys,  i,  242).  Similar  in 
theme  to  "Every  Man's  Condition"  is  "A  Merry  Catch  of  All  Trades" 
(No.  34).  Compare  also  Dekker  and  Webster's  Northward  Ho,  Act  i:  "the 
Northerne  man  loues  white-meates,  the  Southery  man  Sallades,  the  Essex 
man  a  Calfe,  the  Kentishman  a  Wag-taile,  the  Lancashire  man  an  Egg-pie, 
the  Welshman  Leekes  and  Cheese,  and  your  Londoners  rawe  Mutton." 
Such  characterizations  enjoyed  an  extraordinary  vogue  among  seventeenth- 
century  Englishmen. 

The  ballad  dates  after  March  5,  1627  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  173), 
the  day  on  which  Francis  Grove  registered  ballads  called  "2  slippes  for  a 
Teston"  (whence  the  tune)  and  "3  slips  for  a  Teston."  The  latter  is 
extant:  it  is  called  "A  Quip  for  a  scornfuU  Lasse.  Or,  Three  slips  for  a 
Tester.  To  the  tune  of  Two  slips  for  a  Tester"  (Pepys,  i,  234). 

"Three  slips  for  a  testern"  \i.e.  three  counterfeit  twopenny  coins  for  a 
sixpence)  was  a  more  or  less  proverbial  expression  with  the  same  meaning 
as  the  Elizabethan  slang  phrase  "to  give  him  the  slip,"  that  is,  to  elude, 
to  get  away.  Thus  the  Faithful  Post  for  September  7-14,  1655,  in  telling 
of  a  criminal  who  escaped  from  the  gallows  as  the  noose  was  being  adjusted 
around  his  neck,  ran  out  into  the  crowd,  but  was  recaptured,  says:  "He 
wanted  agility  of  body  to  give  them  three  slips  for  a  Tester."  Cf.  also  the 
ballad  of  "The  Forlorn  Lover;  Declaring  How  a  Lass  Gave  Her  Love 
Three  Slips  for  a  Tester"  {Roxburghe  Ballads,  vi,  233). 



€uerj>  iHanjf  conbition. 
0v  tntvv  iHan  i^ai  i)ii  fieuerall  opinion, 
^^!)ic()  rtjep  boe  affect  as!  tfjc  Welchman  fjifil  (Z^nion. 

To  X^Cit.TwTiQ.  oi  two  Slips. 

1  ALL  men  are  inclinde, 
±\~  To  follow  their  minde 

although  their  courses  be  bad. 
Some  men  will  laugh, 
And  some  men  will  quaffe, 

and  some  againe  looke  very  sad. 
Other  sorts  there  be, 
That  loue  flattery, 

but  they  are  base  in  my  opinion, 
Your  swaggerers  will  rore. 
And  your  knaues  run  on  score, 

but  your  Welchman  he  still  loues  an  Onyon. 

2  Your  Citizens  fine, 
Loue  a  cup  of  neat  wine, 

their  wiues^  doe  loue  good  Canary, 
Your  Lawyer  he, 
Well  loues  a  large  fee, 

your  Courtyier  he  loues  to  be  merry: 
Your  Gallants  and  Knights, 
For  their  sports  and  delights, 

will  spend  out  their  time  amongst  women : 
The  sparkes  of  our  age. 
In  their  drinke  they  will  rage, 

but  your  Welchman  he  still  loues  an  Onyon. 


3    The  Merchants^  likewise, 
Though  they  seeme  precise, 

yet  they  couet  more  wealth,  and  more  pleasure: 

^  Text  wiuus.  ^  Text  Merchauts. 



By  crossing  the  Sea, 
Inriched  are  they, 

thus  still  multipled  is  their  treasure. 
So  they  may  get  gaine. 
They  care  not  for  paine, 

but  they  are  not  of  my  opinion :    • 
Though  small  be  my  wealth, 
I  pray  still  for  health, 

but  the  Welchman  he  still  loues  an  Onyon. 

4  The  Taylor^  loues  bread 
With  a  bottom  of  thred : 

his  sheares,  his  needle  and  thimble: 
The  sawyer  his  Saw, 
And  the  Miser  loues  Law, 

the  Carpenter  he  loues  his  wimble: 
The  Cooper  his  ads. 
The  children  their  Dads, 

but  this  still  is  my  chiefe  opinion, 
To  be  merry  and  wise. 
And  trust  mine  owne  eyes, 

but  the  Welchman  he  still  loues  an  Onyon. 

5  The  Thrasher  his  flaile,^ 
The  Spanyel  his  taile, 

the  Carman  his  whip  and  his  whistle: 
The  Butcher  his  dogge, 
the  Swineherd  his  hogge, 

the  Bore  delights  for  to  brissle: 
the  Rorer  his  wench, 
The  Lecher  the  French, 

pray  let  them  both  packe  with  a  winion : 
For  I  loue  my  health, 
As  the  Farmer  loues  wealth, 

or  the  Welchman  a  peece  of  an  Onyon. 

^  Text  Taylors,  2  ]\Jq  comma  in  the  text. 



Cfje  gccontr  part,  ^o  tfje  Jfame  tune. 

6  A/Our  pure-seeming  man 

X  Will  deceiue  if  he  can, 

Your  Papist  deales  all  in  crosses, 
The  Theefe  Hues  by  stealth 
On  other  mens  wealth,^ 

the  Traueller  endures  great  losses. 
But  time  giues  free  scope 
For  the  theefe  to  haue  a  rope, 

tis  fit  for  him  in  my  opinion. 
If  you  will  shunne  shame 
Then  loue  your  owne  fame, 

as  a  Welchman  his  Leeke  or  his  Onion. 

7  The  Mercer  loues  Gloues, 
The  Dutchwomen  stoves, 

the  Groser's  a  man  of  some  reason : 
The  Farmer  loues  corne. 
And  the  huntsman  his  home, 

the  Unthrift  doth  spend  out  of  season : 
The  Weauer  his  Loome, 
The  Miller  his  thumbe, 

thus  all  are  of  seuerall  opinion, 
Giue  me  good  old  Sherry ,i 
I  loue  to  be  merry, 

as  well  as  the  Welchman  his  Onion. 

8  The  Usurer  Gold, 

Idle  Knaues  endure  cold, 

because  that  they  wil  not  labour. 

The  Fiddler  the^  fiddle. 

The  lester  his  riddle,^ 

the  Piper  his  pipe  and  his  tabour, 

1  No  comma  in  the  text.  ^  Text  he. 

R.p.G.  273 


The  Cobler  his  last, 
The  Bowler  his  cast, 

thus  men  are  of  seuerall  opinion, 
The  fish  loues  the  poole. 
And  my  Lady  her  foole, 

but  the  Welchman,  &c. 

The  Smith  loues  his  Hammer, 
And  the  Captaine  his  Drummer, 

the  Souldier^  loues  a  good  blade, 
The  Pedler  his  packe. 
And  the  Collyer  his  Sacke, 

and  the  Horse-courser  he  loues  a  lade. 
The  Brazier  his  kettle. 
The  Bell-founder  mettle,^ 

addicted  to  seuerall  opinions. 
The  Broome-man  loues  Broome, 
And  the  Pope  he  loues  Rome, 

but  the  Welchman,  &c. 

10  The  Dutchman  loues  Beere,  i,; 
And  the  Beareward  his  Beare,  I; 

the  Porter  his  Frock  and  his  Basket,  f 

My  Mamesey  nose  Host  'I 

Loues  a  pot  and  a  toste,  '■ 

and  the  Landresse  she  loues  a  neat  Flasket, 
The  hangman  the  Gallowes, 
and  all  cheating  fellowes, 

deserueth  in  my  opinion 
To  end  in  that  place, 
That  Hues  by  disgrace,  _  / 

but  the  Welchman  he  still  loues  an  Onion. 

1 1  Let  no  body  grudge,  J; 
Nor  ill  of  me  iudge 

because  I  haue  pend  this  same  ditty. 

1  Text  Soulder.  ^  No  comma  in  the  text.  ^ 



But  let  euery  man, 
These  verses  well  scan, 

and  if  he  please  say  they  are  pretty. 
But  yet  howsoeuer 
I  doe  not  endeauour 

to  please  your  base  ones  or  coy  minions: 
But  to  end  my  tale, 
I  loue  good  strong  Ale 

as  well  as  the  Welchman  loues  Onions. 

LI.  Morg. 

Printed  for  Fr.  Coules.^ 
^  Text  has  a  comma. 




The  tragedy  of  Doctor  Lamb 

Pepys,  I,  134,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

According  to  the  pamphlet  quoted  below  (and  it  is  rightly  followed  by 
the  Dictionary  of  National  Biography),  Dr  Lamb  was  mobbed  on  June  1 3, 
1628,  and  died  on  June  14.  In  the  ballad  Martin  Parker  mistakenly  gives 
the  dates  as  June  14  and  June  15^.  Lamb,  a  minion  of  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham, was  execrated  not  only  because  of  his  own  "lewd  life"  but,  also, 
because  of  the  popular  belief  that  he  used  magical  powers  to  enable  his 
patron  to  seduce  chaste  women.  Buckingham  exerted  himself  to  secure 
vengeance  on  Lamb's  assailants.  At  his  instigation,  Charles  I  threatened  to 
withdraw  the  charter  of  London  and  fined  the  city  ^6000.  The  Duke 
himself  was  assassinated  a  few  weeks  later  (on  August  23),  and  the  fine 
was  reduced  to  1500  marks.  The  ballad  is  an  historical  document  of  real 
value,  particularly  interesting  as  showing  the  reaction  towards  Lamb  of  a 
man  in  the  streets.  Parker  tried  hard  to  be  fair,  but  his  feelings  overcame 

For  other  ballads  referring  to  Dr  Lamb  see  Fairholt's  Songs  and  Poems 
Relating  to  George  Filliers,  Duke  of  Buckingham,  Vercy  Society,  1850, 
pp.  xiv,  58-63,  65.  Contemporary  references  to  his  murder  abound. 
Bulstrode  Whitelocke  notes  in  his  Memorials  (1732,  p.  10)  that  "Dr 
Lambe  was  set  upon  in  the  Streets  by  the  Rabble,  and  called  Witch,  Devil 
and  the  Duke's  Conjurer,  and  beaten  that  he  died;  the  Council  wrote  to 
the  Lord  Mayor  to  find  out,  and  punish  the  chief  Actors  therein,  but  none 
were  found."  Richard  Smyth,  in  his  Obituary  (Camden  Society,  ed. 
H.  Ellis,  p.  3),  remarks:  "March  I2[,  1628].  Dr  Lamb  killed  in  the  Old 
Jurie  by  a  rude  multitud,  for  which  the  City  was  fined."  John  Rous  jots 
down  in  his  diary  (ed.  Camden  Society,  pp.  17,  31):  "We  received  newes 
that  doctor  Lambe  (called  the  duke's  wisard)  was  knocked  on  the  heade 
on  the  1 2th  of  June  or  thereabout,  at  6  at  night:  he  and  his  minion  came 
from  a  play,  and  being  houted  and  wondered  at  by  prentises  and  water- 

^  Both  pamphlet  and  ballad  say  that  Dr  Lamb  was  assaulted  on  Friday. 
According  to  Table  C  in  H.  Nicolas's  Chronology  of  History  (2nd  ed.,  p.  5 1) 
June  13,  1628,  fell  on  Friday.  For  further  notes  on  Lamb  see  an  article 
by  Professor  Kittredge  in  Studies  in  the  History  of  Religions.  Presented  to 
C.  H.  Toy,  191 2,  pp.  50-51. 



men,  was  at  length  battered  with  stones  and  otherwise,  and  so  slaine.  The 
devill  is  dead."  In  October  he  noted  that  "a  booke  is  come  forth  of  Doctor 
Lambe."  A  copy  of  this  book  is  preserved  in  the  British  Museum  (C.  30. 
d.  18).  It  is  called  A  Briefe  Description  of  the  Notorious  Life  of  lohn 
Lambe,  otherwise  called  Doctor  Lambe.  Together  with  his  Ignominious 
Death.  [C«/.]  Printed  in  Amsterdam,  1628.  The  following  passage  (pp. 
20-21)  may  be  quoted: 

Vpon  Friday  being  the  13.  of  lune,  in  the  yeare  of  our  Lord  1628.  hee  went 
to  see  a  Play  at  the  Fortune,  where  the  boyes  of  the  towne,  and  other  vnruly 
people  hauing  obserued  him  present,  after  the  Play  was  ended,  flocked  about 
him,  and  (after  the  manner  of  the  common  people,  who  follow  a  Hubbubb, 
when  it  is  once  a  foote)  began  in  a  confused  manner  to  assault  him,  and  offer 
violence.  He  in  affright  made  toward  the  Citie  as  fast  as  he  could  out  of  the 
fields,  and  hired  a  company  of  Sailors,  who  were  there  present  to  be  his  guard. 
But  so  great  was  the  furie  of  the  people,  who  pelted  him  with  stones,  and  other 
things  which  came  next  to  hand,  that  the  Sailors  (although  they  did  their 
endeauour  for  him)  had  much  adoe  to  bring  him  in  safetie  as  farre  as  Moore- 
gate.  The  rage  of  the  people  about  that  place  increased  so  much,  that  the  Sailors 
for  their  owne  safetie,  were  forced  to  leaue  the  protection  of  him ;  and  then  the 
multitude  pursued  him  through  Coleman  street  to  the  old  lurie,  no  house  being 
able,  nor  daring  to  giue  him  protection,  though  hee  had  attempted  many. 
Foure  Constables  were  there  raised  to  appease  the  tumult;  who  all  too  late  for 
his  safety  brought  him  to  the  Counter  in  the  Poultrey,  where  he  was  bestowed 
vppon  the  commaund  of  the  Lord  Maior.  For  before  hee  was  brought  thither, 
the  people  had  had  him  downe,  and  with  stones  and  cudgels,  and  other  weapons 
had  so  beaten  him,  that  his  skull  was  broken,  one  of  his  eyes  hung  out  of  his 
head,  and  all  partes  of  his  body  bruised  and  wounded  so  much,  that  no  part 
was  left  to  receiue  a  wound.  Whereupon  (although  Surgeons  in  vaine  were  sent 
for)  hee  neuer  spoke  a  word,  but  lay  languishing  vntill  Eight  a  clocke  the  next 
morning,  and  then  dyed.  This  lamentable  end  of  life  had  Doctor  lohn  Lambe, 
who  before  prophecied  (although  hee  were  confident  hee  should  escape  Hanging,) 
that  at  last  he  should  die  a  violent  death.  On  Sunday  following,  hee  was  buried 
in  the  new  Church-yard  neere  Bishops-gate. 

In  a  long  account  of  Lamb's  death  Dr  Joseph  Mead  {^he  Court  and 
Times  of  Charles  I,  i,  367  f.)  informed  a  friend  that  "a  ballad  being 
printed  of  him  [Lamb],  both  printer,  and  seller,  and  singer,  are  laid  in 
Newgate."  Beyond  much  doubt  Mead  was  referring  to  the  ballad  by 
Parker  here  reprinted. 

The  tune  of  Gallants,  come  away  is  used  also  for  Richard  Climsal's 
ballad  of  "The  Essex  Man  Cozened"  (Pepys,  i,  290).  It  does  not,  so  far 
as  I  can  find,  occur  among  the  Roxburghe  Collection,  and  the  music  is 
apparently  unknown. 



^\)t  ^ragebp  of  doctor  Lambe, 
Wi^t  great  siuposfeti  Coniurer,  tofjo  tnag  toounbeb  to 
beatt  tip  Kaplers!  anb  otter  Hatisi,  on  Jfrpbap  tlje 
14.  of  3une,  1628.  ^nb  bpeb  in  tije  ^oultrp  Counter, 
neere  Cfjeapgibe,  on  tfje  ^aturbap  morning  following. 

To  the  tune  of  Gallants  come  away. 





L...    ■ 

B   //ig^^^^^ 


\\\\  i-^\l 

\/j^'a^^M  ^^i^L^S^ 


\    \    \  P^^^ffMJ 

\^^^^^  ^^^^^^^ 



1  I       y^BEsMg^^E^^Bfii^WBM^ 






NEighbours  sease  to  mone, 
And  leaue  your  lamentation 
For  Doctor  Lambe  is  gone, 
The  Deuill  of  our  Nation, 
as  'tis  knowne. 

A  long  time  hath  he  liued. 
By  cursed  coniuration : 
And  by  inchantments  thriued, 
While  men  of  worthy  fashion, 
haue  coniued. 



3  The  pranks  that  he  hath  played, 
(By  the  help  o'th  Deuill) 

Are  wondrous:  but  his  trade 
And  all  his  actions  euill,^ 
at  one  time  fade. 

4  The  name  of  Doctor  Lambe^ 
Hath  farre  and  neere  beene  bruted, 
The  Deuill  and  his  dame 

So  cuning  were  not  reputed, 
sure  I  am. 

5  But  now  he's  gone  the  way 
That's  fit  for  such  a  liuer; 
To  Hell  I  dare  not  say, 
Some  iudge  so,  howsoeuer: 

as  well  they  may. 

6  For  such  a  wicked  wretch 

In  England  hath  liu'd  seldome. 
Nor  neuer  such  a  Wich, 
For  his  skill  from  Hell  came,^ 
that  made  him  rich. 

7  I  neede  name  none  on's  feates. 
That  are  well  knowne  olready: 
But  this  my  ditty  treates. 

Of  Doctor  Lambes  Tragedy, 
my  muse  intreates, 

8  Your  patience  for  a  space, 
Whil'st  I  make  his  narration. 
That  liued  voyde  of  grace. 
And  did  in  desperation 

end  his  race. 

1  Text  has  a  period. 



9    The  fourteenth  day  of  lune 
Which  was  vpon  a  Friday, 
In  the  afternoone, 
We  may  count  it  a  high  day, 
for  what  was  done. 

10  This  man  vpon  that  day, 
As  it  is  knowne  for  certaine, 
Went  to  see  a  play 

At  the  house  cald  Fortune: 
and  going  away, 

11  A  crew  of  Sea-men  bold. 
That  went  to  see  the  action. 
Followed  the  Doctor  old. 
And  rose  vnto  a  faction, 

as  'tis  tolde. 

12  Ouer  the  fields  went  he. 
And  after  him  they  follow'd. 
His  Deuill  could  not  free 

Him,  for  they  whoop'd  and  holowd, 
till  they  see. 

Cfjc  geconti  part.  Co  tfje  game  tunc. 

13  T  Tim  enter  in  a  house, 

1  1  The  Horshoe  neere  to  More-gate, 
Where  he  did  carouse. 
But  they  to  him  still  bore  hate, 
the  story  shewes. 

14  Assone  as  he  had  supt. 

Which  was  with  halfe  a  pig  there,^ 
This  multitude  abrupt. 
Said  were  a  Deuill  as  big  there, 
they'd  interrupt. 

^  Text  has  a  period. 


15  His  coming  by  his  death, 
Some  Prentises  did  ayde  them, 
To  take  the  Doctors  breath. 

No  fairemeans  could  perswad  them, 
each  one  hath 

16  A  resolution  bent. 

To  kill  the  English  Deuill, 
About  which,  at  they  went, 
Though  I  confesse  that  euill 
was  their  intent. 

1 7  With  cudgels  and  with  stones, 
The  followd  him  with  fury. 
To  bruse  and  breake  his  bones: 
And  iust  in  the  old  lury^ 

all  at  once 

1 8  They  beate  him  to  the  ground, 
And  meaning  to  dispatch  him, 
They  gaue  him  many  a  wound, 
The  Deuill  could  not  watch  him, 

to  keepe  him  sound. 

19  They  broke  one  of  his  armes. 
And  yet  they  would  not  leaue  him, 
But  did  him  further  harmes. 

And  still  they  bad  him  saue  him- 
selfe  by's  charmes. 

20  His  scull  in  piteous  wise, 
Was  battered  and  brused. 
They  put  out  both  his  eyes, 
So  cursely  then  they  vsed 

him,  who  spyes 

2 1  No  rescue  from  his  Spirits, 
That  vsed  to  attend. 

So  ill  had  beene  his  merits, 
That  few  men  to  defend, 
shew'd  their  mights. 



22  Now  breefely  to  conclude, 
to'th  Counter  he  was  carried 
By  the  multitude, 

Where  all  that  night  he  tari'd, 
with  blood  imbrude. 

23  And  then  he  did  depart, 
In  lamentable  manner, 

Yet  few  are  grieu'd  at  heart, 
To  heare  of  his  dishonour, 
and  his  smart. 

24  Thus  Doctor  Lambe  is  dead. 

That  long  hath  wrongd  our  Nation, 
His  times  accomplished, 
And  all  his  coniuration, 
with  him  is  fled. 

25  As  his  life  was  lude. 
Damnable  and  vitious: 
So  he  did  conclude 

His  life,  and  none  propitious, 
pitty  shew'd. 



Printed  at  London  for  H.G. 



T'he  unnatural  wife 

Pepys,  I,  122,  roman  and  italic  type,  two  woodcuts,  five  columns.  The 
use  of  "white  letter"  in  so  early  a  ballad  is  most  unusual. 

This  ballad,  printed  by  Margaret  Trundle, — widow  of  the  celebrated 
John  Trundle, — supplements  Coles's  ballad  of  "A  Warning  for  All 
Desperate  Women"  (No.  50),  as  each  deals  with  the  same  crime.  Accord- 
ing to  an  entry  in  Jeaffreson's  Middlesex  County  Records  (iii,  107),  which 
Professor  Kittredge  has  brought  to  my  attention,  Alice  Davies  was  tried 
for  the  murder  of  her  husband,  Henry  Davies,  at  the  Middlesex  Sessions 
of  July  9,  1628,  and  found  guilty.  Mrs  Davies  made  a  plea  of  pregnancy, 
but  this  was  disallowed  because  a  jury  of  matrons  found  her  "Not  Preg- 
nant." She  was  then  sentenced  to  be  burned. 

The  tune  oi Bragandary^,  though  used  for  many  ballads  (cf.  Nos.  3,  35, 
52,  76,  77),  appears  to  be  unknown.  "The  Fair  Widow  of  Watling  Street," 
in  two  long  parts,  was  registered  on  August  17,  1597  (Arber's  Transcript, 
III,  88;  Roxburghe  Ballads,  viii,  8;  Shirburn  Ballads,  p.  i).  Its  first  part  is 
to  be  sung  to  Bragandary,  the  second  to  The  Wanton  Wife  (perhaps  The 
Wanton  Wife  of  Westminster,  a  tune  named  from  a  lost  ballad  of  that 
title  registered  in  two  parts  on  July  3,  1597).  Ebsworth  argued  that  The 
Wanton  Wife  of  Westminster  and  Bragandary  were  identical  tunes:  his 
argument  {Roxburghe  Ballads,  viii,  14)  is  fallacious,  and,  in  any  case,  the 
Wanton  Wife  is  still  an  undiscovered  tune.  There  is,  also,  among  the 
Roxburghe  Ballads  (viii,  14;  Wood  E.  25  (17))  "A  Description  of  Wanton 
Women.  To  the  Tune  o{  Bragandary,  or,  Southampton."  But  Southampton, 
too,  is  unknown.  It  is  very  likely,  however,  that  somewhere  the  music  will 
be  found  under  the  names  already  mentioned  or  under  those  of  O  Folly, 
Desperate  Folly,  O  Roundheads,  Desperate  Roundheads,  and  the  like. 

^  A  ballad  "to  the  Tune  ol Braggendarty'"''  was  entered  in  the  Stationers' 
Register  on  March  29,  1604  (Arber's  Transcript,  in,  257). 


Cije  bnnaturall  IMiit : 

^Ije  lamentable  JHurtfter,  of  one  gooijman  Dam's, 
1locfee=^miti)  in  t!rutle=sitreete\  tofjo  toag  sitabbeb  to 
beatf)  hp  Ijis;  WiiU,  on  ti)e  29.  of  7^/;?^,  1628.  Jfor 
toflicfi  fact,  ^fje  toag  ^raignetr,  Conbemneb,  anb 
^biubgeb,  to  be  Purnt  to  Beatb  in  Smithjield,  tije 

12.  of  luly  1628. 

To  the  tune  of  Bragandary. 

1  T  F  woefull  obiects  may  excite, 
-1-  the  minde  to  ruth  and  pittie, 
Then  here  is  one  will  thee  affright 

in  Westminsters  faire  Citie: 
A  strange  inhumane  Murther  there, 
To  God,  and  Man  as  doth  appeare: 

oh  murther, 

most  inhumane. 
To  spill  my  Husbands  blood. 

2  But  God  that  rules  the  host  of  Heauen, 

did  giue  me  ore  to  sinne, 
And  to  vild  wrath  my  minde  was  giuen, 

which  long  I  liued  in; 
But  now  too  late  I  doe  repent. 
And  for  the  same  my  heart  doth  rent- : 
oh  murther, 
most  inhumane. 
To  spill  my  Husbands  blood. 

3  Let  all  curst  Wiues  by  me  take  heed, 

how  they  doe,  doe  the  like, 
Cause  not  thy  Husband  for  to  bleed, 
nor  lift  thy  hand  to  strike: 

^  I.e.  Tothill  Street.  ^  'pjjg  „  jg  upside  down  in  the  text. 



Lest  like  to  me,  you  burne  in  fire, 
Because  of  cruell  rage  and  ire : 

oh  murther, 

most  inhumane, 
To  spill  my  Husbands  blood. 

4  A  Locke-Smith  late  in  Westminster, 

my  Husband  was  by  trade. 
And  well  he  liued  by  his  Art, 
though  oft  I  him  vbbraide; 
And  oftentimes  would  chide  and  braule. 
And  many  ill  names  would  him  call : 
oh  murther, 
most  inhumane, 
To  spill  my  Husbands  blood. 

tBi)t  sJcconb  part.  Co  tfje  jfame  Cune. 

5  T  And  my  Husband  foorth  had  bin, 
J-  at  Supper  at  that  time. 

When  as  I  did  commit  that  sin, 

which  was  a  bloody  crime; 
And  comming  home  he  then  did  craue, 
A  Shilling  of  me  for  to  haue : 

oh  murther, 

most  inhumane. 
To  spill  my  Husbands  blood. 

6  I  vow'd  he  should  no  Money  get, 

and  I  my  vow  did  keepe, 
Which  then  did  cause  him  for  to  fret, 

but  now  it  makes  me  weepe; 
And  then  in  striuing  for  the  same, 
I  drew  my  knife  vnto  my  shame : 
oh  murther, 
most  inhumane. 
To  spill  my  Husbands  blood. 



7  Most  desperately  I  stab'd  him  then, 

with  this  my  fatall  knife, 
Which  is  a  warning  to  Women, 

to  take  their  Husbands  hfe: 
Then  out  of  doores  I  streight  did  runne, 
And  sayd  that  I  was  quite  vndon, 
oh  murther, 
most  inhumane, 
To  spill  my  Husbands  blood. 

8  My  Husband  I  did  say  was  slaine, 

amongst  my  Neighbours  there. 
And  to  my  house  they  straite  way  came, 

being  possest  with  feare; 
And  then  they  found  him  on  the  floore, 
Starke  dead  all  weltring  in  his  goore, 
oh  murther, 
most  inhumane, 
To  spill  my  Husbands  blood. 

9  Life  faine  I  would  haue  fetcht  againe, 

but  now  it  was  too  late, 
I  did  repent  I  him  had  slaine, 

in  this  my  heauie  state; 
The  Constable  did  beare  me  then 
Vnto  a  lustice  with  his  men: 
oh  murther,  &c. 

lo   Then  lustice  me  to  Newgate  sent, 
vntill  the  Sessions  came. 
For  this  same  foule  and  bloody  fact, 

to  answere  for  the  same: 
When  at  the  Barre  I  did  appeare, 
The  lury  found  me  guiltie  there: 
oh  murther^,  &c. 

^  Text  muther. 



1 1  The  ludge  gaue  sentence  thus  on  me, 

that  backe  I  should  returne 
To  Newgate,  and  then  at  a  Stake, 

my  bones  and  flesh  should  burne 
To  ashes,  in  the  winde  to  flie, 
Vpon  the  Earth,  and  in  the  Skie. 
oh  murther,  &c. 

12  Vpon  the  twelfth  of  luely  now, 

I  on  a  Hurdle  plac't, 
Vnto  my  Execution  drawne, 

by  weeping  eyes  I  past; 
And  there  in  Smith-field  at  a  Stake, 
My  latest  breath  I  there  did  take : 
oh  murther,  &c. 

13  And  being  chayned  to  the  Stake, 

both  Reedes  and  Faggots  then 
Close  to  my  Body  there  was  set, 
with  Pitch,  Tarre,  and  Rozen, 
Then  to  the  heauenly  Lord  I  prayd. 
That  he  would  be  my  strength  and  ayde. 
oh  murther, 
most  inhumane. 
To  spill  my  husbands  blood. 

14  Let  me  a  warning  be  to  Wiues, 

that  are  of  hasty  kinde. 
Lord  grant  that  all  may  mend  their  Hues, 

and  beare  my  death  in  minde. 
And  let  me  be  the  last  I  pray. 
That  ere  may  dye  by  such  like  way. 
Oh  Father 
for  thy  Sonnes  sake, 
Forgiue  my  sinnes  for  aye. 


Printed  at  London  for  M.T.  Widdow. 



A  warning/or  all  desperate  women 

Pepys,  I,  1 20,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Richard  Harper  secured  a  license  for  this  ballad  on  December  11,  1633 
(Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  310),  as  "A  warning  for  all  desperate  weomen," 
but  this  was  a  reissue  of  the  present  sheet,  which  Francis  Coles  published 
in  1628.  It  is  a  remarkable  example  of  a  good-night  written  (as  the  ballad- 
monger  would  have  us  believe)  after  the  guilty  woman  had  actually  been 
burned.  Verisimilitude  was  the  least  of  the  ballad- writer's  troubles.  To  be 
sure,  he  began  with  the  idea  of  writing  a  mere  conventional  farewell  such 
as  all  criminals  made  (or  were  expected  to  make)  before  their  execution. 
Accordingly,  with  the  lighting  of  the  faggots  in  the  second  stanza  from  the 
end,  he  changes  to  the  third  person,  but,  forgetting  realism,  in  the  final 
stanza  takes  up  the  first  person  again  and  makes  the  dead  woman  utter  a 
doleful  warning.  A  record  of  Mrs  Davies's  trial  and  condemnation  is  cited 
in  the  introduction  to  No.  49. 

For  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  196. 

^  toarning  tor  all  bejfperate  ^l^omen. 

Pj>  t!)e  example  of  Alice  Dauis  toljo  for  feilling  of 

tier  ijusitjanb  toas!  burneti  in  ^mtttfielb  tije  12  of 

3ulp  1628.  to  tije  terror  of  all  tlje  tieliolberss. 

To  the  tune  oi  the  Ladies  fall. 

I    A  /"Nto  the  world  to  make  my  moane, 
V    I  know  it  is  a  folly, 
Because  that  I  have  spent  my  time, 
which  haue  beene  free  and  iolly. 
But  to  the  Lord  which  rules  aboue, 

I  doe  for  mercy  crie, 
To  grant  me  pardon  for  the  crime, 
for  which  on  earth  I  dye. 



1    Hells  fiery  flames  prepared  are, 

for  those  that  Hue  in  sinne, 
And  now  on  earth  I  tast  of  some, 

but  as  a  pricke  or  pin, 
To  those  which  shall  hereafter  be, 

without  Gods  mercy  great, 
Who  once  more  calls  vs  to  account, 

on  his  Tribunall  Seate. 

3  Then  hasty  hairebraind  wiues  take  heed, 

of  me  a  warning  take. 
Least  like  to  me  in  coole  of  blood, 

you  burn't  be  at  a  stake; 
The  woman  which  heere  last  did  dye, 

and  was  consum'd  with  fire. 
Puts  me  in  minde,  but  all  to  late, 

for  death  I  doe  require. 

4  But  to  the  story  now  I  come, 

which  to  you  He  relate. 
Because  that  I  haue  liu'd  like  some, 

in  good  repute  and  state, 
In  Westminster  we  liued  there, 

well  knowne  by  many  friends. 
Which  little  thought  that  each  of  vs, 

should  haue  come  to  such  ends. 

5  A  Smith  my  husband  was  by  trade, 

as  many  well  doe  know. 
And  diuers  merry  dayes  we  had, 

not  feeling  cause  of  woe, 
Abroad  together  we  had  bin, 

and  home  at  length  we  came, 
But  then  I  did  that  fatall  deede, 

which  brings  me  to  this  shame. 

6  He  askt  what  monies  I  had  left, 

and  some  he  needes  would  haue. 
But  I  a  penny  would  not  giue, 
though  he  did  seeme  to  craue, 

289  T 



But  words  betwixt  vs  then  did  passe, 

as  words  to  harsh  I  gaue, 
And  as  the  Diuell  would  as  then, 

I  did  both  sweare  and  raue. 

tKte  Jfeconb  ^art,  ^o  tfje  sfame  tune. 

ANd  then  I  tooke  a  Uttle  knife, 
jt\.  and  stab'd  him  in  the  heart. 
Whose  Soule  from  Body  instantly, 

my  bloody  hand  did  part, 
But  cursed  hand,  and  fatall  knife 

and  wicked  was  that  houre. 
When  as  my  God  did  giue  me  ore 

vnto  his  hellish  power. 

The  deede  no  sooner  I  had  don, 

But  out  of  doores  I  ran, 
And  to  the  neighbours  I  did  cry, 

I  kil'd  had  my  goodman. 
Who  straight-way  flockt  vnto  my  house, 

to  see  that  bloody  sight, 



Which  when  they  did  behold  with  griefe, 
it  did  them  much  affright. 

9    Then  hands  vpon  me  there  was  lay'd, 

And  I  to  Prison  sent, 
Where  as  I  lay  perplext  in  woe, 

and  did  that  deede  repent, 
When  Sizes  came  I  was  arraign'd, 

by  lury  iust  and  true, 
I  was  found  guilty  of  the  fact, 

for  which  I  haue  my  due. 

10  The  lury  hauing  cast  me  then, 

to  iudgment  then  I  came. 
Which  was  a  terrour  to  my  heart, 

and  to  my  friends  a  shame, 
To  thinke  vpon  my  husbands  death, 

and  of  my  wretched  life, 
Betwixt  my  Spirit  and  my  flesh, 

did  cause  a  cruell  strife. 

1 1  But  then  the  ludge  me  sentence  gaue 

to  goe  from  whence  I  came, 
From  thence,  vnto  a  stake  be  bound 

to  burne  in  fiers  flame, 
Untill  my  flesh  and  bones  consum'd, 

to  ashes  in  that  place, 
Which  was  a  heauie  sentence  then, 

to  on^  so  uoyd  of  grace. 

12  And  on  the  twelfth  of  luly  now, 

I  on  a  sledge  was  laid. 
To  Smithfield  with  a  guard  of  men 

I  streight  way  was  conueyd. 
Where  I  was  tyed  to  a  stake, 

with  Reedes  was  round  beset, 
And  Fagots 2,  Pitch,  and  other  things 

which  they  for  me  did  get. 

^  I.e.  one.  ^  Text  Fagtos. 

291  T2 


1 3  Now  great  lehouah  I  thee  pray, 

my  bloudy  sinnes  forgiue, 
For  on  this  earth  most  wretched  I 

vnworthy  am  to  Hue. 
Christ  lesus  vnto  thee  I  pray, 

and  vnto  thee  I  cry. 
Thou  with  thy  blood  wilt  wash  my  sinnes 

away,  which  heere  must  dye. 

14  Good  wiues  and  bad,  example  take, 

at  this  my  cursed  fall. 
And  Maidens  that  shall  husbands  haue, 

I  warning  am  to  all  : 
Your  Husbands  are  your  Lords  &  heads, 

you  ought  them  to  obey. 
Grant  loue  betwixt  each  man  and  wife, 

vnto  the  Lord  I  pray. 

1 5  God  and  the  world  forgiue  my  sinnes, 

which  are  so  vile  and  foule, 
Sweete  lesus  now  I  come  to  thee, 

O  Lord  receiue  my  Soule. 
Then  to  the  Reedes  they  fire  did  put, 

which  flamd  vp  to  the  skye, 
And  then  she  shriek'd  most  pittifully, 

before  that  she  did  dye. 

16  The  Lord  preserue  our  King  &  Queene, 

and  all  good  Subiects  blesse. 
And  Grant  the  Gospell  true  and  free, 

amongst  vs  may  encrease. 
Betwixt  each  husband  and  each  wife, 

send  loue^  and  amitie. 
And  grant  that  I  may  be  the  last, 

that  such  a  death  did  dye. 


Printed  for  F.  Coules. 

^   Text  lond. 



Rochelle  her  yielding 

Pepys,  I,  96,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

The  failure  of  the  expedition  (June-October,  1627)  which  Charles  I 
sent  to  the  Island  of  Rhe  under  command  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  and 
the  fall  of  La  Rochelle  on  October  28,  1628,  aroused  great  interest  in 
Protestant  England,  which  Martin  Parker's  ballad  faithfully  reflects. 
Parker  has  no  hostility  towards  King  Louis  XIII  (the  "Dolphin"  of  No.  4) : 
he  was  too  firm  a  believer  in  the  sanctity  of  Royalty  and  Nobility  to  have 
much  sympathy  with  rebels,  even  though  they  were  Protestants  and  their 
King  a  Roman  Catholic.  In  the  Great  Rebellion  Parker,  with  his  loyal 
ballads  and  pamphlets,  gave  to  the  Royal  Cause  aid  that  was  by  no  means 
despicable.  For  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  179;  11,  773. 

i^octell  fjer  peelbing  to  tfje  obebience  ot  tfje  Jfrencf) 

lling,  on  tfje  28.  of  (J^ctober  1628.  alter  a  long  sliege 

fjp  5.anb  anb  ^ea,  in  great  penurp  anb  toant. 

To  the  tune  of  In  the  dayes  of  old. 

I    X/'Ou  that  true  Christians  be 
J-    assist  me  with  your  sorrow, 
While  the  misery 

of  Rochell  I  relate : 
And  in  loue  let  me 

your  attention  borrow, 
He  in  breuity 

shew  you  their  estate. 
Being  besieged  long 
With  an  Army  strong, 

by  land  and  sea  inuirond  close: 
France  and  Spaine  combinde, 
To  haue  them  all  pinde, 

yet  brauely  they  did  them  oppose, 



And  with  constant  valour, 
They  indur'd  such  dolour, 

that  a  heart  obdure  may  melt. 
To  heare  this  relation. 
And  haue  commiseration, 

on  the  wants  that  long  they  felt. 

2  While  this  warlike  Towne 

stood  in  her  chiefe  glory, 
Still  when  Fate  did  frowne 

on  the  Protestants, 
Thither  haue  they  flowne, 

while  their  foes  were  sory, 
But  that  old  renowne 

now  braue  Rochell  wants. 
For  through  want  of  meat, 
Famine  was  so  great, 

that  the  liuing  ate  the  dead : 
It  grieues  me  to  report, 
How  that  in  wofull  sort 

many  Christians  perished, 
Through  the  want  of  victuall. 
Whereof  they  had  so  little, 

that  as  I  before  did  touch, 
Those  who  dy'd  by  hunger. 
Were  eate  by  the  stronger, 

their  necessity  was  such. 

3  Horses,  Dogs,  and  Cats, 

were  esteemed  dainty. 
Frogs,  and  Mice,  and  Rats, 

were  meat  for  the  best. 
Some  did  eate  old  Hats, 

to  maintaine  them  faintly, 
Shooes  and  Gloues  were  cates 

that  seru'd  among  the  rest: 
Such  is  hungers  power, 



Twill  make  one  deuoure 

that  which  we  will  scarce  beleeue: 
Ere  a  man  will  starue, 
Hee'le  his  life  preserue 

with  that  which  our  smell  would  grieue, 
Thus  this  wofull  City, 
Whose  distresse  I  pitie, 

suffered  most  extreame  famine, 
The  like  I  scant  haue  read  of, 
To  the  feare  and  dread  of 

all  that  shall  their  case  examine. 

4    About  twelue  thousand  soules 

perished  by  hunger, 
While  many  needlesse  bowles 

in  England  were  ill  spent. 
Neither  fish  nor  fowles 

had  they  to  keepe  them  longer, 
Many  cryes  and  houles 

to  the  ayre  were  sent. 
Nor  any  kinde  of  meat 
Could  they  haue  to  eate, 

when  their  store  was  fully  spent. 
The  Spaniard  and  the  French 
Put  them  to  such  a  pinch, 

hauing  round  begirt  their  Towne, 
That  they  needs  must  yeeld 
What  they  could  not  weild, 

hunger  brings  stout  stomaks  down.^ 
So  it  hath  constrained 
Them  with  heart  vnfained 

to  surrender  vp  their  Towne. 

1  No  punctuation  in  the  text. 


tlTfje  geconti  part.  Co  tfje  siame  tune. 

5  I  "He  eight  and  twentieth  day 
J-    of  the  last  October, 

Seeing  there  was  no  way 

but  to  yeeld  the  Towne, 
They  without  delay 

aduis'd  by  Counsell  sober, 
Yeelded  to  obey 

the  King  who  weares  that  crown 
And  therewithal!  they  straight 
Opened  the  gate, 

and  put  the  Town,  their  Hues  and  goods 
Into  his  Highnesse  hands. 
To  doe  as  he  commands, 

who  did  not  seek  to  spil  their  bloods.^ 
Beyond  our  expectation 
He  had  commiseration, 

on  those  miserable  soules. 
And  mildly  he  dispenses 
With  their  bold  offences, 

and  their  cases  much  condoles. 

6  When  they  had  open  set 

the  Gates  vpon  aduenture 
And  that  the  French  did  get 

possession  of  the  same. 
They  freely  without  let 

into  the  streets  did  enter, 
The  Townesmen  yeelded  it, 

and  did  all  right  disclaime, 
Protesting  that  they  would 
Be  euer  as  they  should 

obsequious  to  his  Maiesty, 
And  like  subiects  true, 

^  No  period  in  the  text. 


Liue  in  obedience  due, 

and  he  with  their  humility 
So  graciously  was  pleased, 
That  he  then  released 

them  of  what  they  had  offended, 
He  giues  them  leaue  to  vse 
The  faith  which  they  doe  chuse, 

thus  all  contention  shall  be  ended. 

7  It  was  a  piteous  thing 

that  befell  them  after, 
For  when  some  did  bring 

victualls  as  was  needing, 
Sent  thither  by  the  King, 

it  caus'd  a  wofull  slaughter: 
Many,  surfetting, 

dy'd  with  too  much  feeding. 
So  weake  their  stomacks  were 
That  they  could  not  beare 

meat  as  other  people  can : 
Thus  as  some  dy'd  through  need, 
So  want  of  taking  heed 

broght  death  to  many  a  hungry  man. 
God  grant  that  we  here  dwelling 
May  haue  a  fellow  feeling 

of  those  Christians  misery, 
Who  haue  indur'd  such  sorrow, 
And  let  vs  from  them  borrow, 

a  patterne  of  true  constancy. 

8  God  blesse  our  Royall  King, 

who  is  true  faiths  defender. 
That  he  to  passe  may  bring 

euery  good  designer 
Blesse  also  in  each  thing 

his  Queene,  and  in  time  send  her 
Power  in  grace  to  spring 

like  a  fruitfull  Vine: 



The  Nobles  of  this  Land 
Protect  with  thy  right  hand, 

that  they  may  fructifie  in  good : 
And  let  those  Christians  true 
The  right  way  still  pursue, 

oh  let  them  stand  as  they  haue  stood, 
Let  not  thy  flocke  disturbed,  | 

Be  by  Tyrants  curbed, 

but  like  the  Arke  let  it  still  swim, 
Among  those  raging  billowes, 
Though  with  cares  they  fill  vs, 

let's  not  be  dismaid  for  them. 



Printed  at  London  for  I.  Wright. 



A  warning/or  wives 

Pepys,  I,  1 1 8,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

This  ballad  has  not  previously  been  included  in  any  list  of  Martin 
Parker's  works.  It  is  an  adequate  news-story  in  verse — though  hardly,  as 
Parker  professes,  "in  tragicke  stile."  There  is  a  remarkable  similarity 
between  the  murders  committed  by  Mrs  Francis,  of  this  ballad,  and  Mrs 
Davies,  of  Nos.  49  and  50.  The  following  account  of  the  crime,  as  Professor 
Kittredge  reminds  me,  is  given  in  JeaiFreson's  Middlesex  County  Records 
(ill,  26): 

8  April,  5  Charles  I.  True  Bill  that,  at  Cowcrosse  co.  Midd.  on  the  said  day, 
Katherine  Francis,  late  the  wife  of  Robert  Francis  alias  Katherine  Francis  late 
of  the  said  parish  spinster,  assaulted  the  said  Robert  then  her  husband,  and  then 
and  there  murdered  him  by  stabbing  him  with  a  pair  of  scissors  in  the  neck, 
so  that  he  then  and  there  died  instantly. 

Marriage  seems  to  have  entailed  many  dangers  to  husbands  of  this 
period.  John  Rous,  in  his  Diary  for  December  13,  1632  (ed.  Camden 
Society,  p.  76),  notes  that  "A  woman  was  burned  in  Smithfield  December 
13,  who  in  a  falling-out  with  her  husband,  stabbed  him  in  the  necke  with 
a  knife;  so  that,  following  her  doune  a  payer  of  stayers,  and  crying  out  to 
stay  her,  he  died  at  the  bottome  of  them  immediatly."  Richard  Smyth's 
Obituary  (ed.  H.  Ellis,  Camden  Society,  p.  8)  records  that  on  December 
12,  1634,  "A  taylor's  wife,  for  killing  her  husband,  [was]  burnt  in  Smith- 
field."  Many  other  crimes  of  this  nature  are  enumerated  in  a  book  called 
The  Adultresses  Funeral!  Day:  In  flaming,  scorching,  and  consuming  f  re : 
OR  The  burning  dozvne  to  ashes  of  Alice  Clarke  late  of  Vxbridge  in  the 
County  of  Middlesex,  in  West-smithfield,  on  Wensday  the  20.  of  May,  1635. 
for  the  unnaturall  poisoning  of  Fortune  Clarke  her  Husband.  .  .By  her  daily 
visiter  H.  G[oodcole].  in  life  and  death  (British  Museum,  6495.  c.  38). 

Burning  was  the  usual  mode  of  inflicting  the  death  penalty  on  women 
who  were  convicted  of  petty  treason.  For.  other  offences,  such  as  theft  (to 
the  proper  amount),  murder,  and  witchcraft,  English  women  were  freely 
hanged  (cf.  No.  76).  Lucy  Cole,  for  example,  who  poisoned  her  master, 
Anthony  Trott,  was  in  November,  1605,  acquitted  on  the  charge  of 
[petty]  treason,  which  would  have  involved  burning,  but  convicted  of 
murder  and  sentenced  to  be  hanged  (JeafFreson,  op.cit.  11,  9).  See  Nos.  14, 
49  and  50,  where  the  crimes  mentioned  were  petty  treason.  Strangulation 
may  sometimes  have  preceded  the  actual  burning,  but  was  not  (if  ballads 



and  pamphlets  can  be  trusted)  the  rule.  All  the  steps  involved  in  burning 
a  woman  to  death  are  minutely  described  in  a  pamphlet  printed  by  Henry 
Gosson  in  1608  on  The  Araignement  tff  burning  of  Margaret  Ferne-seede, 
for  the  Murther  of  her  late  Husband  Anthon'^  Ferne-seede,  found  deade  in 
Peckham  Field  neere  Lambeth,  hauing  once  before  attempted  to  poyson  him 
with  broth,  being  executed  in  S.  Georges-field  the  last  of  Februarie.  1608 
(British  Museum,  C.  21.  b.  5).  Mrs  Ferneseed,w^ho  vehemently  denied  her 
guilt  and  against  whom  the  evidence  now  appears  very  dubious,  was 
burned  on  Monday,  February  28,  at  two  p.m.  "She  was  stripped  of  her 
ordinary  wearing  apparell,  and  vppon  her  owne  smocke  put  a  kirtle  of 
Canuasse  pitched  cleane  through,  ouer  which  she  did  weare  a  white  sheet, 
and  so  was  by  the  keeper  deliuered  to  the  Shreue,  one  \i.e.  on]  each  hand 
a  woman  leading  her,  and  the  Preacher  going  before  her.  Being  come  to 
the  place  of  execution,  both  before  and  after  her  fastning  to  the  Stake, 
with  godly  exhortations  hee  admonished  her  that  now  in  that  minute  she 
would  confesse  that  fact  for  which  she  was  now  ready  to  suffer,  which  she 
denying,  the  reeds  were  planted  aboute,  vnto  which  fier  being  giuen  she 
was  presently  dead." 

The  taking  refrain  of  the  ballad,  characteristic  of  the  tune  oi  Bragandary 
(cf.  No.  49),  had  been  used  earlier,  and  is  referred  to  in  John  Webster's 
play,  The  Devil's  Law  Case,  1623,  iv,  ii: 

O  women,  as  the  ballad  lives  to  tell  you. 
What  will  you  shortly  come  to ! 

Parker's  refrain  is  also  given  as  the  tune  of  ballads  in  Wit  Restored,  1656, 
pp.  I  57  fF.,  Musarum  Deliciae,  1656,  pp.  88  ff..  The  Rump,  1661,  pp.  82  fF., 
and  the  Roxburghe  Ballads,  in,  117;  vii,  826.  It  is  the  tune  also  of  "The 
Careless  Curate  and  the  Bloody  Butcher"  (beginning  "Black  Murther  and 
Adultery"),  1662,  in  the  Wood  Collection  (Wood  401  (187)). 

^  tuarning  for  toiuesf, 
i8j>  tfje  example  of  one  Katherine  Francis,  aliasl  Stoke, 
tDfio  for  feiUing  ter  fjusftianb,  Robert  Francis  toitfi  a 
paire  of  ^i^ersi,  on  tfje  8.  of  ^priU  at  nigfjt,  bjasi  fjurneb 
on  Clarkenweil-greene,  on  tKue£lbap,  tfje  21  of  tte 

siame  monettj,  1629. 

To  the  tune  o£  Bragandary. 

I      ALas  what  wretched  bloody  times 
-lX.  doe  we  vile  sinners  Hue  in! 
What  horrid  and  what  cruell  crimes 
are  done  in  spight  of  heauen ! 



What  barberous  murders  now  are  done, 
none  fowler  since  the  world  begun! 
Oh  women, 
Murderous  women, 
whereon  are  your  minds? 

2  The  Story  which  I  now  recite, 

expounds  your  meanings  euill.^ 
Those  women  y^  in  blood  delight, 

Are  ruled  by  the  Deuill, 
Else  how  can  th'  wife  her  husband  kill. 
Or  th'  Mother  her  owne  childs  blood  spill, 
Oh  women, 
Murderous  women,  &'c. 

3  At  Cow-crosse,  neere  to  Smithfield-barres, 

adiacent  to  the  City, 
A  man  ands  wife  at  houshold  iarres 

long  liu'd,  the  more's  the  pitty, 
Like  Cat  and  Dog  they  still  agree'd; 
Each  small  offence  did  anger  breed : 
Oh  Women,  is'c, 

4  She  oftentimes  would  beat  him  sore, 

and  many  a  wound  she  gaue  him. 
Yet  hee'd  not  Hue  from  her  therefore, 

to  stay  ill  fate  would  haue  him. 
Till  she  with  one  inhumane  wound, 
Threw  him  (her  husband)  dead  toth'  ground. 
Oh  women,  ^c. 

5  Upon  the  8  of  Aprill  last, 

betweene  this  man  and  wife. 
Some  certaine  words  of  difference  past; 

and  all  their  cause  of  strife, 
Was  but  about  a  trifle  small, 
yet  that  procur'd  his  fatall  fall. 
Oh  women,  ^c. 

^  No  period  in  the  text. 



This  was  about  the  houre  of  tenne, 

or  rather  more  that  night, 
When  this  was  done,  whereof  my  Pen 

in  tragicke  stile  doth  write; 
The  maner  of's  death  most  strange  appeares 
Being  struck  ith'  neck  with  a  pair  of  sheeres, 
Oh  women,  ^c. 

As  many  of  the  neighbours  say, 

that  thereabout  doe  dwell, 
This  couple  had  most  part  oth'  day 

beene  drinking,  so  they  tell. 
And  comming  home  at  night  so  late. 
She  did  renew  her  former  hate. 
Oh  women,  &€. 


Cfje  sieconli  part  ^o  tfje  game  tune. 

^Nother  woman  that  was  there, 
she  out  oth'  doores  did  send. 
And  bad  her  fetch  a  Pot  of  Beere, 

oh  then  drew  nere  his  end. 
For  ere  the  woman  came  againe. 
This  wife  had  her  owne  husband  slaine: 
Oh  women, 
Murderous  women, 
whereon  are  your  minds? 

9    She  long  had  thirsted  for  his  blood, 
(euen  by  her  owne  confession) 
And  now  her  promise  she  made  good, 

so  heauen  gaue  permission 
To  Satan,  who  then  lent  her  power 
And  strength  to  do't  that  bloody  houre. 
Oh  women,  &c. 

lo    It  seemes  that  he  his  head  did  leane 
toth'  Chimney,  which  she  spide. 
And  straight  she  tooke,  (O  bloody  queane) 
her  Sisers  from  her  side, 



And  hit  him  therewith  such  a  stroake 

Ith  necke,  that  (some  thinke)  he  nere  spoke. 

Oh  women^  ^c. 

1 1  She  hauing  done  that  monstrous  part, 

(woe  worth  her  for  her  labour) 
No  power  had  from  thence  to  start, 

but  went  vnto  a  neighbour, 
And  told  him,  that  she  verily  thought, 
that  she  her  husbands  death  had  wrought. 
Oh  women^  &'c. 

1 2  The  man  amaz'd  to  heare  the  same, 

caught  hold  of  her,  and  said. 
He  know  the  truth,  and  how  this  came, 

if  such  a  part  be  plaid, 
No  sooner  had  he  said  the  same. 
But  neighbours  did  her  fact  proclaime. 
Oh  women  ^c. 

1 3  Then  to  New  Prison  was  she  sent, 

because  it  was  so  late, 
And  vpon  the  next  day  she  went 

(through  Smithfieldy  to  Newgate^ 
Where  she  did  lye  vntill  the  Session, 
To  answer  for  her  foule  transgression. 
Oh  women,  ^c. 

14  Where  she  condemned  was  by  Law, 

in  Clarkenwell  to  be  burned, 
Unto  which  place  they  did  her  draw, 

where  she  to  ashes  turned, 
A  death,  though  cruell,  yet  too  milde 
For  one  that  hath  a  heart  so  vilde. 
Oh  women,  i^c. 

1   Text  (through  Swithfieli). 


1 5    Let  all  good  wiues  a  warning  take, 
in  Country  and  in  City, 
And  thinke  how  they  shall  at  a  stake 

be  burned  without  pitty. 
If  they  can  haue  such  barbarous  hearts,  I 

What  man  or  woman  will  take  their  parts, 
Oh  women^ 
Murderous  women, 
whereon  are  your  minds? 



Printed  at  London  for  F.G.  on  Snow-hill. 



T'he  western  knight 

Pepys,  I,  312,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

This  ballad  was  licensed  as  "Western  Knight"  on  June  i,  1629  (Arber's 
Transcript,  iv,  213).  It  is  a  romance  with  possibly  a  traditional  ballad  as 
a  source  and  with  a  few  traditional  features.  Of  somewhat  similar  nature 
are  "The  False  Lover  Won  Back"  and  "Child  Waters"  in  F.  J.  Child's 
English  and  Scottish  Popular  Ballads  (Nos.  63  and  218).  Even  closer  is  the 
resemblance  to  the  early  part  of  Child's  No.  4,  "Lady  Isabel  and  the  Elf- 
Knight,"  which  in  one  stall  copy  (dating  about  1749)  is,  as  Professor  Child 
noted  {pp.  cit.  i,  23),  called  "The  Western  Tragedy."  Professor  Kittredge 
remarks  that  the  Harvard  College  Library  has  an  American  edition  of 
"The  Western  Tragedy"  that  was  printed  late  in  the  eighteenth,  or  early 
in  the  nineteenth,  century. 

Wsst  V^t^itxnt  llnigfjt,  anb  tfje  poung  iWaiti  of  Bristoli, 
Cijeir  loues;  anti  fortunes;  relateti. 

To  a  pretty  amorous  tune. 

1  T  T  was  a  yong  knight  borne  in  the  West, 
A   that  led  a  single  life, 

And  for  to  marry  he  thought  it  best 
because  he  lackt  a  wife. 

2  And  on  a  day  he  him  bethought, 

as  he  sate  all  alone, 
How  he  might  be  to  acquaintance  brought, 
with  some  yong  pretty  one. 

3  What  luck,  alas,  (quoth  he)  haue  I 

to  Hue  thus  by  my  selfe  } 
Could  I  find  one  of  faire  beauty, 
I  would  not  sticke  for  pelfe. 

R.p.G.  305  u 


4  Oh,  had  I  one  though  nere  so  poore, 

I  would  her  not  reiect: 
I  haue  enough,  and  aske  no  more, 
so  she  will  me  affect. 

5  With  that  his  man  he  then  did  call 

that  nere  vnto  him  staid. 
To  whom  he  soone  vnfolded  all, 
and  vnto  him  he  said, 

6  Come  saddle  me  my  milke  white  Steed, 

that  I  may  a  wooing  ride. 
To  get  some  bonny  Lasse  with  speed, 
whom  I  may  make  my  Bride. 

7  On  horsebacke  mounted  this  gallant  young  Knight, 

and  to  try  his  fate  he  went, 
To  seeke  some  Damsell  faire  and  bright, 
that  might  his  mind  content. 

8  And  as  he  through  Bristoll  Towne  did  ride, 

in  a  fine  window  of  Glasse, 
A  gallant  Creature  he  espide, 
in  the  Casement  where  she  was. 

9  His  heart  then  taught  his  tongue  to  speake 

as  soone  as  he  her  saw. 
He  vnto  her  his  mind  did  breake, 
compel 'd  by  Cupids  Law. 

10  Faire  Maid,  quoth  he,  long  may  you  Hue, 

and  your  body  Christ  saue  and  see, 
Fiue  hundred  Crownes  I  will  you  giue, 
to  set  your  loue  on  me. 

1 1  Though  I  am  faire,  qd.  she,  in  some  sort, 

yet  am  I  tender  of  age. 
And  want  the  courtesie  of  the  Court, 
to  be  a  yong  Knights  Page. 



12  A  Page,  thou  gallant  Dame,  quoth  he^, 

I  meane  thee  not  to  make; 
But  if  thou  loue  me,  as  I  loue  thee, 
for  my  Bride  I  will  thee  take. 

13  If  honestly  you  meane,  quoth  she, 

that  I  may  trust  your  word, 
Yours  to  command  I  still  will  be, 
at  bed  and  eke  at  boord. 

Kf)t  sfeconb  part.  Co  tfje  sfame  tune. 

14  '  I  "Hen  he  led  her  by  the  lilly  white  hand, 

-L     vp  and  downe  a  Garden  greene. 
What  they  did,  I  cannot  vnderstand, 
nor  what  passed  them  betweene. 

1 5  When  he  to  her  had  told  his  mind, 

and  done  what  he  thought  best, 
His  former  promises  so  kind, 
he  turned  to  a  lest. 

1 6  Yet  he  gaue  to  her  a  Ring  of  gold, 

to  keep  as  her  owne  life: 
And  said,  that  in  short  time  he  would, 
come  and  make  her  his  wife. 

1 7  Then  mounted  he  vpon  his  Steed, 

and  rode  from  the  Damsell  bright. 
Saying  he  would  fetch  her  with  speed, 
but  he  forgot  it  quite. 

1 8  When  fifteene  weeks  were  come  and  gone, 

the  Knight  came  riding  by. 
To  whom  the  Lasse  with  grieuous  moane, 
did  thus  lament  and  cry. 

19  Sir  Knight,  remember  your  vow  quoth  she 

that  you  to  me  did  say, 
With  child,  alas,  you  haue  gotten  me, 
and  you  can  it  not  denay. 
^  Texi  she. 


u  2 


20  So  mayst  thou  be,  quoth  he,  faire  Flowre, 

and  the  child  be  none  of  mine, 
Unlesse  thou  canst  tell  me  the  houre, 
and  name  to  me  the  time. 

2 1  Full  fifteene  weeks  it  is,  quoth  she, 

that  you  lay  my  body  by; 
A  gay  gold  Ring  you  gaue  to  me, 
how  can  you  this  deny? 

22  If  I  (quoth  he)  my  gold  Ring  gaue, 

to  thee,  as  to  my  friend. 
Thou  must  not  thinke  I  meane  to  haue 
thee  till  my  life  doth  end. 

23  Nor  do  I  meane  to  take  for  my  wife, 

a  Lasse  that  is  so  meane. 
That  shal  discredit  me  all  my  life, 
and  all  my  kindred  cleane. 

24  Quoth  she,  false  Knight,  why  didst  thou  then 

procure  my  ouerthrow. 
Oh,  now  I  see  that  faithlesse  men, 
will  sweare,  yet  meane  not  so. 

25  Now  may  I  Hue  from  ioyes  exilde, 

like  a  bird  kept  in  a  Cage, 
For  I  am  fifteen  weeks  gone  with  child, 
and  but  fourteen  yeeres  of  age. 

26  Farewel,  farewel,  thou  faithlesse  Knight, 

sith  thou  wilt  me  forsake, 
Oh  heauens  grant  all  Maidens  bright, 
by  me  may  warning  take. 

27  When  as  the  Knight  did  heare  what  she 

poore  harmelesse  wretch  did  say. 
It  mou'd  his  heart,  and  quickly  he 
made  her  a  Lady  gay. 

Printed  at  London  for  F.  Cou/es. 


The  father  hath  beguiled  the  son 

Pepys,  I,  362,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

"The  father  beguild  his  sonne"  was  registered  for  publication  by 
Francis  Coles  and  his  ballad-partners  on  June  20,  1629.  A  lost  ballad  called 
"The  Sonne  beguils  the  Father"  was  registered  by  Francis  Grove  on 
July  3,  1630,  and  was  probably  a  reply,  by  Martin  Parker  himself,  to  the 
present  work.  (Cf.  Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  216,  238.)  A  tune  of  The  Mother 
Beguiled  the  Daughter  (cf.  Roxburghe  Ballads,  vii,  161)  is  often  used:  the 
ballad  from  which  it  was  derived  is  not  known,  but  I  suspect  that  it,  too, 
was  the  work  of  Parker.  He  was  very  fond  of  writing  of  a  subject  from 
various  angles,  especially  when  he  could  in  turn  satirize  men  and  then 
women.  The  tune  of  Drive  the  cold  winter  away  is  given  in  Chappell's 
Popular  Music,  i,  194. 

What  basis — whether  fact  or  imagination — Parker  had  for  this  doleful 
tragedy,  with  its  pointed  warning  to  deceitful  fathers,  is  not  determined. 
But  the  story  reads  like  fiction.  The  third  line,  "a  spokesman  hath  woo'd 
for  himself,"  is  an  anticipation  of  a  well-known  passage  in  Longfellow's 
Courtship  of  Miles  Standish. 

W^t  fatijer  fjati)  beguil'b  tfje  gonne. 

^r,  a  tDonberfuU  tE^ragebp,  tofjicfj  latelp  tiefcll  3n 

OTiltJitjire,  asi  man?  men  fenofab  fuU  toeU. 

To  the  tune  of  Drive  the  cold  Winter  away. 

I    T  Often  haue  knowne, 

J-  And  experience  hath  showne, 

that  a  spokesman  hath  woo'd  for  himselfe 
And  that  one  rich  neighbour 
Will  vnderhand  labour 

to  ouerthrow  another  with  pelfe: 
But  I  neuer  knew,^ 
Nor  I  thinke  any  of  you, 

since  wooing  and  wedding  begun, 
^  Text  has  a  period. 


That  ith  way  of  marriage, 
Or  such  kinde  of  carriage 

the  father  heguiV  d  his  owne  sonne. 

2  Yet  of  such  a  thing 
I  purpose  to  sing: 

and  tis  of  a  certaine  truth, 
A  widower  old 
Well  stored  with  gold: 

had  one  onely  sonne  a  fine  youth, 
In  Wiltshire  of  late 
Neere  to  Bodwin  the  great: 

this  strange  and  true  story  was  done. 
Then  list  and  giue  eare 
And  you  truly  shall  heare: 

how  the  father  heguiV  d  his  owne  sonne. 

3  A  pretty  young  maid, 
In  the  place  aforesaid: 

in  a  Gentlemans  house  did  dwell 
And  this  youthfull  lad 
So  much  view  of  her  had, 

that  with  her  in  loue  he  soone  fell : 
By  day  and  by  night 
He  wisht  for  her  sight, 

and  she  at  the  last  was  wonne, 
To  plight  him  her  troth, 
Yet  she  broke  her  oath, 

for  the  father  heguiV  d  his  owne  sonne. 

4  For  once  on  a  day 

The  young  man  did  say: 
vnto  his  wise  and  aged  dad, 

That  twas  his  intent 

(Worse  things  to  preuent) 

with  marriage  to  make  him  glad : 

Me  thinkes  first  quoth  he. 

Your  wife  I  might  see, 
why  will  you  hastily  run : 



On  such  brittle  ware? 
Yet  for  all  his  care, 

{old fox)  he  beguird  his  owne  Sonne. 

5  The  Sonne  told  his  father, 
How  that  he  had  rather: 

to  haue  in  the  same  his  consent, 
So  to  haue  a  view 
Of  his  Louer  true, 

the  Sonne  with  his  father  went: 
And  when  they  came  there 
The  Lasse  did  appeare, 

so  faire  and  so  louely  a  one, 
That  the  old  doting  churle, 
Fell  in  loue  with  the  girle 

and  sought  to  beguile  his  owne  Sonne. 

6  With  such  pleasant  words 
As  to  loue  accords, 

they  all  did  depart  for  that  season, 
The  honest  young  Lad, 
Was  ioyfull  and  glad: 

his  sweet-hart  had  shew'd  him  good  reaso, 
The  loue-sicke  old  man, 
Did  looke  pale  and  wan, 

and  could  to  no  pleasure  be  wonne. 
By  night  and  by  day. 
Still  musing  hee  lay, 

how  he  might  beguile  his  owne  Sonne. 

7  Yet  none  did  mistrust, 
A  thing  so  vniust: 

for  he  was  neere  threescore  yeeres  old: 
Which  yeeres  one  would  thinke. 
Should  make  a  man  shrinke, 

when  his  vitall  spirits  are  cold : 
But  now  to  be  briefe. 
That  was  all  his  griefe, 

from  loue  all  this  mischiefe  begun : 



And  nothing  could  serue, 
His  life  to  preserue, 

but  that  which  must  kill  his  owne  Sonne. 

8  So  once  on  a  day, 

When  his  sonne  to  make  hay: 

was  gone  a  good  mile  from  the  house, 
Away  the  old  man. 
Is  gone  to  see  Nan., 

as  briske  as  a  body  louse: 
And  with  a  bold  face, 
He  told  her  his  case, 

and  into  what  care  he  was  runne, 
Unlesse  that  she, 
Would  kindly  agree, 

to  take  him  in  stead  of  his  sonne. 

Clje  geconb  part,  Co  tfje  siame  tune. 

9  OHe  mused  in  mind, 
vIj  Such  greeting  to  find, 

and  thus  vnto  him  shee  said, 
Can  such  an  old  knaue. 
With  one  foot  in  the  graue: 

set  loue  on  a  young  tender  maid, 
That  hardly  sixteene 
Cold  winters  had  scene, 

sure  such  thing  cannot  be  done: 
Nay  more  then  all  this 
You  know  what  past  is, 

twixt  me  and  your  onely  sonne. 

lo    Sweet  Nan  quoth  hee, 
Ne're  dally  with  me, 

I  loue  thee  as  well  as  may  be, 
And  though  I  am  old 
I  haue  siluer  and  gold 

to  keepe  thee  as  braue  as  a  Lady, 



All  my  whole  estate 
Upon  thee  shall  wait, 

and  whatsoere  thou  wouldst  haue  done, 
With  gold  in  thy  hand 
Thou  shalt  it  command, 

if  thou  wilt  take  me  instead  of  my  Sonne. 

11  If  me  thou  doe  shun, 
In  hope  of  my  sonne 

then  take  him  and  ift  be  thy  minde, 
But  into  the  bargaine 
Looke  not  for  one  farthing, 

then  be  not  with  folly  let  blind, 
For  it  lies  in  my  power, 
At  this  instant  houre 

(if  thou  say  no  it  shall  be  done) 
To  giue  all  I  haue, 
Away  from  the  knaue, 

then  take  me  and  leaue  off  my  sonne. 

12  When  she  heard  these  words. 
To  him  shee  accords 

vpon  the  same  condition, 
That  of  all  his  pelfe, 
He  should  his  owne  selfe, 

her  set  in  full  possession, 
To  which  he  agreed. 
And  gaue  her  a  deed, 

by  which  the  poore  Lad  was  vndone. 
To  please  his  fancy, 

he  did  dis-inherit  his  sonne. 

13  These  things  being  [said,]^ 
And  they  both  contriued, 

by  witnesse  [conspires]^  so  the  Lad, 
The  old  man  home  went 

^  These  words  are  blurred  so  that  only  a  few  letters  can  be  read.  Con- 
spires is  very  doubtful. 


With  hearty  content, 

reioycing  at  his  courses  bad, 

And  thus  the  next  day, 

He  carryed  away 

the  Lasse  which  with  wealth  he  had  won.^ 

He  maried  was, 

Twelue  miles  from  the  place, 

thus  the  father  beguiVd  his  own  sonne. 

14  The  young-man  with  griefe. 
Heard  of  this  mischiefe 

and  blaming  this  monstrous  part. 
Before  both  their  faces, 
Unto  their  disgraces, 

he  stab'd  himselfe  to  the  heart: 
The  vnnaturall  dad. 
Ran  presently  mad: 

repenting  of  what  he  had  done, 
He  runs  vp  and  downe, 
From  towne  vnto  towne, 

and  hourely  calks  on  his  sonne. 

15  The  faithlesse  young  wife, 
Weary  of  her  life, 

(to  thinke  what  folly  befell) 
Ran  straight  in  all  hast. 
And  headlong  shee  cast 

herselfe  in  a  deepe  draw-well. 
And  there  shee  was  found. 
Next  morning  quite  drown'd 

these  things  for  certaine  were  done, 
Some  sixe  weekes  agoe. 
As  many  men  know, 

that  knew  both  father  and  sonne. 

1 6  Let  euery  good^  father 
A  warning  here  gather, 

by  this  old  mans  punishment: 

1  No  period  in  the  text.  ^  Text  god. 


And  let  euery  young  Lasse, 
(As  in  a  glasse,) 

looke  on  this  disastrous  euent; 
For  both  were  to  blame, 
And  both  suffer'd  shame, 

the  old  man  yet  liuing  doth  run 
In  mad  franticke  wise 
And  alwayes  he  cryes, 

for  casting  away  his  owne  sonne. 



Printed  at  London  for  Francis  Coules. 



AfooPs  bolt  is  soon  shot 

Pepys,  I,  178,  B.L.,  six  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Both  the  proverbial  title  of  this  ballad  and  the  fine  large  woodcut  of 
Part  I  were  borrowed  from  Samuel  Rowlands's  satiric  pamphlet,  A  Fooles 
Bolt  is  soone  skott,  which  was  printed  by  George  Loftus  in  161 4  {Complete 
Works  of  Samuel  Rowlands,  Hunterian  Club,  1880,  vol.  11).  The  ballad 
may  have  been  printed  by  John  Grismond  immediately  after  Rowlands's 
book,  but  it  was  first  entered  in  the  Stationers'  Register  on  June  20,  1629 
(Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  216),  by  Francis  Coles.  Approaching  the  same 
subject  from  another  angle  is  the  much  older  ballad  (1569)  of  "The  xxv. 
orders  of  Fooles"  reprinted  in  A  Collection  of  Seventy-Nine  B lack-Letter 
Ballads,  1867,  p.  88. 

The  author,  T.F.,  translated  in  1616  a  sensational  news-pamphlet  called 
Miraculous  Nezaes,  From  the  Cittie  of  Hold t,  in  the  Lord-ship  of  Munster  {in 
Germany)  the  twentieth  of  September  last  past.  1616.  Where  There  Were 
Plainly  beheld  three  dead  bodyes  rise  out  of  their  Graues,  admonishing  the 
people  of  Judgements  to  come  (British  Museum,  1103.  d.  53.  For  a  ballad 
on  the  subject  see  the  Shirburn  Ballads,  pp.  76-80).  He  can  hardly  have 
been  the  T.F.,  a  Kentishman,  who  in  1585  published  Newes  From  the 
North.  Otherwise  called  the  Conference  between  Simon  Certain  and  Pierce 
Plowman  (C.  40.  d.  12). 

The  tune  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  378. 



^  jFooleg  polt  is!  jsoone  sifjot. 
#ooti  Jfrientrs;  tietoarc,  3'me  Ufee  to  fjit  pee, 
Wl)at  ere  pou  be  ijeer's!  tljat  tuiU  fit  pee ; 
WWh  toap  soeuer  tfjat  pou  goe, 
^t  pou  3  apme  mp  ^olt  anti  Potoe. 

To  the  Tune  of,  O^  no  ?w  no  not  yet. 

STand  wide  my  Masters,  and  take  heed, 
for  feare  the  Foole  doth  hit  yee, 
If  that  you  thinke  you  shall  be  shot, 

rde^  wish  you  hence  to  get  yee; 
My  Bowe  you  see  stands  ready  bent, 

to  giue  each  one  their  lot. 
Then  haue  amongst  you  with  my  Bolts, 
for  now  I  make  a  shot. 

He  that  doth  take  delight  in  Lawe, 

and  euer  to  be  brangling, 
Would  be^  like  to  the  Bells  were  hang'd, 

that  loues  still  to  be  iangling; 
1  Text  Id'e.  2  ^ext  he. 


His  Lawyers  purse  he  fills  with  Coine, 

himselfe  hath  nothing  got, 
And  proues  a  begger  at  the  last, 

at  him  I  make  a  shot. 

3    Who  all  the  weeke  doth  worke  full  hard, 

and  moyle  both  night  and  day. 
Will  in  a  trice  spend  all  his  coine, 

and  foole  his  meanes  away,  I 

In  drinking  and  in  rioting,  I 

at  pipe  and  at  the  pot. 
Whose  braines  are  like  an  adled  ^^^^-t 

at  him  I  make  a  shot. 

4.    The  Prodigall  that  is  left  rich, 

that  wastes  his  state  away. 
In  wantones  and  surfeting, 

in  gaming  and  in  play. 
And  spends  his  meanes  on  Whores  and  Queanes, 

doth  make  himselfe  a  sot. 
May  in  a  Spittle  chance  to  dye, 

at  him  I  make  a  shot. 

5    He  that  is  apt  to  come  in  bands  ^ 

for  euery  common  friend, 
May  shake  a  begger  by  the  hands  ^, 

and  pay  the  debt  i'th^  end. 
By  selling  Goods  and  Lands  away, 

or  in  a  Prison  rot. 
Where  none  will  pitty  his  poore  case, 

at  him  I  make  a  shot. 

S   The  Man  that  wedds  for  greedy  wealth, 
he  goes  a  fishing  faire. 
But  often  times  he  gets  a  Frog, 

or  very  little  share; 
And  he  that  is  both  young  and  free, 

and  marries  an  old  Trot, 
When  he  might  Hue  at  libertie, 
at  him  I  make  a  shot. 
1  TVAT/hand.  2  Text\x!\v. 

Cte  ^econti  ^art.  tKo  tlje  game  tKune. 

7  'npHe  Miser  that  gets  wealth  great  store, 

A    and  wretchedly  doth  Hue, 
In  's  life  is  like  to  starue  himselfe, 

at  's  death  he  all  doth  giue 
Unto  some  Prodigall,  or  Foole, 

that  spends  all  he  hath  got. 
With  griping  vsury  and  paine, 

at  him  I  make  a  shot. 

8  He  that  doth  early  rise  each  morne, 

and  worketh  hard  all  day, 
When  he  comes  home  can  not  come  in, 

his  Wife  is  gone  to  play; 
And  lets  her  to  drinke  and  spend  all 

the  moneys  which  he  got. 
Shall  weare  my  Coxcombe  and  my  Bell, 

and  at  him  heers  a  shot. 

9  An  Old-man  for  to  dote  in  age 

vpon  a  Wench  thats  young. 
Who  hath  a  nimble  wit  and  eye, 

with  them  a  pleasing  tongue, 
Acteons  plume  I  greatly  feare 

will  fall  vnto  his  lot, 
That  stoutely  in  his  crest  he'le  beare, 

at  him  I  make  a  shot. 

lo    A  Widow  that  is  richly  left, 

that  will  be  Ladifide, 
And  to  some  Gull  or  Roaring-boy 

she  must  be  made  a  Bride, 
His  Cloathes  at  Broakers  he  hath  hir'd 

himselfe  not  worth  a  groat. 
That  basts  her  hide  and  spends  her  meanes 

at  her  I  make  a  shot. 



II    A  Mayden  that  is  faire,  and  rich, 

and  young,  yet  is  so  proud, 
That  fauour  vnto  honest  men 

by  no  meanes  can  be  low'd; 
And  thus  she  spends  her  chiefest  prime, 

refusing  her  good  lot. 
In  youth  doth  scorne  in  age  is  scornd, 

at  her  I  make  a  shot. 

1 1    But  she  that  wanton  is  and  fond, 

that  fast  and  loose  will  play, 
When  that  her  reconings  are  cast  vp, 

must  for  it  soundly  pay. 
And  may  the  Father  chance  to  seeke 

of  that  which  she  hath  got. 
Besides  her  standing  in  a  sheete, 

at  her  I  make  a  shot. 

1 3  Who  spends  his  time  in  youth  away, 

to  be  a  Seruing-man, 
Doth^  seldome  grow  for  to  be  rich, 

doe  he  the  best  he  can; 
And  then  when  age  doth  come,  God  knows 

this  Man  hath  nothing  got. 
But  is  turnd  out  amongst  the  dogges, 

at  him  I  make  a  shot. 

14  He  that  doth  sell  his  Lands  away, 

an  Office  for  to  buy, 
May  keepe  a  quarter  for  a  time, 

but  will  a  begger  dye; 
For  he  hath  sold  his  Lambes  good  man, 

and  younger  Sheepe  hath  got. 
Although  he  thinke  himselfe  so  wise, 

at  him  I  make  a  shot. 

1 5  He  that  will  goe  vnto  the  Sea, 

and  may  Hue  well  on  shore. 
Although  he  venture  life  and  goods, 
may  hap  to  come  home  poore, 
1  Text  Dotd. 



Or  by  the  Foe  be  made  a  Slaue, 

with  all  that  he  hath  got, 
Whose  Limbes  in  peeces  are  all  torne, 

at  him  I  make  a  shot. 

1 6  Those  that  their  Parents  doe  reiect, 

and  makes  of  them  a  scorne, 
Who  wishes  then  with  griefe  and  woe 

they  neuer  had  been  borne; 
For  portion  they  may  Twelue-pence  haue 

beside  a  heauy  lot, 
For  disobedience  ordaind, 

at  them  I  make  a  shot. 

17  The  Parents  which  their  Child  brings  vp 

to  haue  their  owne  free  will, 
The  wise  and  antient  Salomon 

doth  say  they  them  will  spill : 
And  when  correction  comes  too  late, 

they  wish  they'd  nere  been  got: 
But  for  their  folly  which  is  past, 

at  them  I  make  a  shot. 

1 8  They  that  continue  still  in  sinne, 

and  thinke  they  nere  shall  dye, 
Deferring  off  repentance^  still, 

and  Hues  in  iollitie. 
Death  quickly  comes  and  ceases  them, 

and  then  it  is  their  lot 
In  hells  hot  flame  for  to  remaine, 

at  them  I  make  a  shot. 

19  And  so  farewell  my  Masters  all, 

God  send  's  a  merry  meeting; 
Pray  be  not  angry  with  the  Foole 
that  thus  to  you  sends  greeting: 

^  Text  has  the  p  upside  down. 

321  X 


And  if  that  any  haue  escap'd, 
and  saies  I  did  not  hit  them, 

It  is  because  my  Bolts  are  spent, 
but  lie  haue  more  to  jit  them. 

Printed  at  London  for  I.G. 



Fourpence  halfpenny  farthing 

Pepys,  I,  274,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

The  ballad  was  licensed  to  Francis  Grove  on  June  22,  1629  (Arber's 
Transcript,  iv,  216),  though  it  was  printed  by  Cuthbert  Wright.  An 
extract  of  one  stanza  from  the  Pepysian  copy  is  printed  in  the  Roxburghe 
Ballads,  VIII,  720. 

This  ditty  shows  Martin  Parker  in  a  naughty  mood,  but  seems  desirable 
in  print  merely  because  it  is  his  work.  No  other  ballad-writer  was  half  so 
clever  in  dealing  inoffensively,  so  far  as  concerns  language,  with  an  offensive 
situation.  In  his  class  he  was  a  master  of  innuendo.  This  "Jest"  main- 
tained its  popularity  for  years:  answers  and  imitations,  dating  from  the 
years  1685-1689,  will  be  found  in  the  Pepys  Collection,  iii,  41,  238; 
IV,  249,  257,  and  in  the  Roxburghe  Ballads,  viii,  710.  The  tune  is  given 
in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  366. 

Jpourepente  Ijalf epennep  Jf art^ing : 
^  ^^oman  toiU  taue  tfje  d^bbess. 

To  the  tune  of  Bessy  Bell,  or  a  Health  to  Betty. 

ONe  Morning  bright,  (for  my  delight) 
Into  the  Fields  I  walked, 
There  did  I  see 
A  Lad,  and  hee 

with  a  faire  Maiden  talked. 
It  seem'd  to  me,  they  could  not  agree, 
About  some  pretty  bargaine, 
He  offer'd  a  groat. 
But  still  her  note 
was  jour  e  -pence  halfe  penney  farthing. 


1    Whats  that  thought  I,  that  he  would  buy 
at  such  a  little  value, 
And  as  much  I  mus'd 
Wherefore  he  vs'd 

that  summe  of  which  I  tell  you,  { 

The  price  was  small,  but  that's  not  all.  i 

The  rest  is  worth  regarding,  .; 

for  nothing  she,  ;. 

would  doe,  till  he, 

gaue  foure  pence  halje  penney  farthing.  \ 

Quoth  he  faire  Maid,  let  me  perswade, 

you  to  vnfold  a  reason. 
Why  you  request, 
Boue  all  the  rest 

that  price  now  at  this  season. 
Quoth  she,  good  Sir,  I  doe  preferre, 
My  humour,  before  the  bargaine: 
by  all  the  gods. 
He  haue  the  ods, 

iust  foure  pence  halfe  penny  farthing. 

I  made  an  oath,  which  I  am  loth 

to  violate,  I  tell  you. 
Though  't  be  more  worth. 
If  'twere  set  forth 

the  lewell  which  I  tell  you. 
The  number  three,  best  liketh  me, 
Therefore  I  aske  according, 
three  pieces  of  you, 
as  'tis  my  due, 

thats  foure  pence  halfe  penney  farthing. 

When  this  yong  Lad,  receiued  had, 

to  his  demand,  an  answer: 
He  laught  outright, 
As  well  he  might, 

for  he,  nor  his  great  Granser, 



The  like  nere  heard,  it  well  appear'd, 
She  knew  how  to  make  her  bargin. 

he  drew  his  purse, 

and  did  disburse, 
iust foure  pence  halje  penney  farthing, 

6    When  he  had  paid,  the  pretty  Maid, 
and  gaue  what  she  desired, 
To  haue  the  same, 
For  which  he  came, 

he  eagerly  required. 
But  ere  they  could,  doe  what  they  would, 
I  (who  had  vnaware  bin, 
and  heard  and  seene, 
what  past  betweene, 
for  jour e  pence  halje  penney  jarthingf- 

^i)t  gecontr  part,  ^o  tfje  game  tunc. 

7    "V  ZNto  them  stept,  by  which  I  kept 
V    the  yongster  from  his  pleasure, 
The  best  on't^  was. 
The  witty  Lasse, 

before  had  got  his  Treasure, 

^  Text  far//fing.  (Sic.) 


2  Texiont\ 


She  swore  to  me,  that  neuer  she, 
Would  haue  perform'd  the  bargin, 

her  meaning  was, 

to  make  him  an  Asse, 
for  jour e  pence  halje  penney  farthing. 

8  And  truely  I,  thinke  verily, 

in  that  she  did  dissemble: 
Poore  Fellow  hee. 
At  sight  of  mee, 

began  to  quake  and  tremble. 
His  sword  I  found,  upon  the  ground. 
With  which  I  did  reward  him, 
with  a  knocke  or  twaine, 
twas  all  his  gaine, 
for  foure  pence  halfe  penny  farthing. 

9  When  I  had  beate  him  with  's  own  weapon, 

and  might  haue  run  him  thorow. 
To  th'^  Alehouse  we, 
Did  goe  all  three, 

to  drinke  away  all  sorrow. 
The  honest  Lasse,  most  willing  was. 
To  call  her  whole  reward  in. 
and  freely  spent, 
with  merriment, 
her  four e  pence  halfe  penny  farthing. 

lo   And  he  likewise,  was  not  precise, 
but,  (as  it  seemed)  willing, 
To  call  for  drinke. 
As  much  I  thinke 

as  came  vnto  a  shilling. 
I  would  haue  paid  but  he  denaid. 
And  thus  I  got  by  th'^  bargin, 
good  sport  and  drinke, 
which  makes  me  thinke 
of  four e  pence  halfe  penny  farthing. 

1  Text  'th. 



1 1  But  ere  they  went,  I,  to  preuent 

their  meeting  againe  together, 
Sent  her  away, 
And  made  him  stay, 

Fme  sure  he  met  not  with  her. 
If  she  be  nought,  as  't  may  be  thought, 
loue  send  her  a  Whores  rewarding, 
but  good  or  bad, 
she  guld  the  Lad 
of  joure  -pence  halfe  penny  farthing. 

1 2  The  tother^  day,  vpon  the  way, 

it  was  my  chance  to  meet  her. 
She  blushed  red. 
And  nothing  sed, 

but  I  began  to  greet  her. 
How  now  sweet  Lasse,  can  you  thus  passe 
By  me  without  regarding. 

though  you  haue  forgot, 
yet  I  haue  not,^ 
the  joure  pence  halfe  penny  farthing. 

1 3  Kind  Sir  (quoth  she)  I  well  doe  see, 

you  haue  not  it  forgotten, 
Ouoth  I,  I  protest. 
This  may  be  a  lest, 

when  we  are  dead  and  rotten. 
She  went^  her  way,  and  since  that  day, 
I  thought  it  might  be  a  rare  thing: 
to  cause  this  lest, 
thus  t'  be  exprest 
of  four e  pence  halfe  penny  farthing. 



Printed  at  London  for  C  W. 
1   Text  to'ther.  ^  Text  has  a  period.  ^  Text  whent. 


A  banquet  for  sovereign  husbands 

Pepys,  I,  402,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns.  The  first  column  is 
badly  mutilated,  so  that  the  third  and  fourth  stanzas  have  been  filled  in 
by  guess. 

The  date  of  the  ballad  is  after  June  22,  1629,  for  at  that  time  was 
licensed  the  ballad  of  "The  Woman  to  the  Plough  and  the  Man  to  the 
Hen-Roost,"  after  which  the  tune  is  named  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  216; 
Roxburgke  Ballads,  vii,  185).  "The  Woman  to  the  Plough"  was  to  be 
sung  to  /  have  for  all  good  wives  a  song,  a  tune  named  from  the  first  line 
of  Parker's  "Merry  Dialogue  betwixt  a  Married  Man  and  His  Wife.  To 
an  Excellent  Tune"  {Roxburgke  Ballads,  11,  159). 

The  idea  of  cuckoldry  that  underlies  the  "eating  of  the  ram"  is  broadly 
implied:  there  is  innuendo  rather  than  actual  coarseness  of  expression.  The 
last  stanza  is  cleverly  designed  to  increase  the  sale  of  the  ballad. 

^  Panqiuet  for  ^oueraigne  i!|usibantisi. 

Cije  l^ositing  of  ti)e  Ramme  tofjole  at  ^aint  Giles 
in  tljc  fielbs;  on  TOebnesitiap  tfje  ttoentp  foure  of  3unc, 
1629.  being  iHitisiommer  trap,  ^eatr,  ||ornesi,  anb  aU. 

To  the  tune  of  The  Woman  to  the  Plow,  and  the 
Man  to  the  Hen-Roost. 

I     /'"^N  Midsommer  day  I  chanc't  to  goe 
V--/  Unto  a  place  which  many  know: 
And  there  was  done  a  merry  lest, 
Which  in  my  song  shall  be  exprest. 
Let  no  man  thinke  this  is  a  flamme, 
I  sing  the  rosting  of  a  Ramme. 

1    Saint  dies' es  in  the  fields,  that  towne. 
Which  no  place  can  for  mirth  put  downe: 



Especially  about  the  City, 

They  haue  such  sport  and  pastime  pretty: 

But  this  excels  all,  sure  I  am, 

I  meane  the  rosting  of  the  Ramme. 

3  [The  Ram~\me  was  for  this  purpose  fed, 
[Was  cooked]  whole  both  feet  and  head: 
[Head  an]d  homes  and  all  to  boot, 
[And  now  herje  all  that  would  come  too't. 
[Come  John^  come  George^  come  William^^ 

[So  precioujs  is  the  rosted  Ramme. 

4  [And  many  a  man  there]  thither  came, 
[Swearing  he  would]  his  wife  rule  and  tame: 
[And  that  he  s]hould  eate  vp  the  spit, 

[His  wife  also]  should  taste  a  bit. 
[But  all  be]held  most  sure  I  am 

[That  nothing  was  ea]ten  of  the  Ramme. 

5  He  lay  so  long  o'th  Spit  He  tell  yee. 

Till  most  o'th  puddings  dropt  out  of's  belly. 
And  scarce  a  man  durst  draw  his  knife, 
For  feare  he  should  displease  his  wife: 
Many  excus'd  it  with  a  flam, 

and  few  or  none  durst  touch  the  Ram. 

6  At  last  came  in  a  good  fellow  o'th  Towne, 
And  swore  it  should  cost  him  a  Crowne, 
But  he  would  haue  a  slash  at  th'  Tuppe, 
This  was  before  his  wife  was  vp: 

Had  she  bin  there,  halfe  sure  I  am, 
he  had  not  tasted  of  the  Ram. 

7  Many  were  halfe  resolued  to  enter, 
Yet  on  the  Ram  they  durst  not  venter. 
For  feare  their  wiues  ere  they  had  dinde 
Would  fetch  them  home  with  words  vnkind: 
Franke  would  fain,  &  so  would  Sam^ 

yet  neither  of  them  durst  taste  the  Ram. 

^  No  comma  in  the  text. 


8  This  being  perceiued  by  mine  Host, 
Who  fear'd  this  proiect  would  be  crost, 
Hee  had  it  cut  off  bit  by  bit, 

And  sold  for  money  from  off"  the  spit : 
On  these  conditions  many  came 
to  buy  for  money  some  o'th  Ram. 

W^t  jscconb  part  Co  tije  sfame  tune. 

9  'VTOw  if  this  Ramme  had  beene  a  Bull, 
1  ^  And  all  his  belly  with  pudding  full, 
If  none  but  ruling  women  might 
Haue  come,  it  had  bin  swallowd  quite 
In  the  forenoone,  for  sure  I  am 

they  best  deseru'd  to  eate  the  Ram. 

10  But  now  to  make  my  story  short. 
This  Ram  all  day  did  cause  good  sport, 
As  Moris-dancing,  and  such  toyes. 
That  draw  together  Girles  and  Boyes. 
And  many  a  groat  and  tester  came 

to  th'i  Host,  for  tasting  of  the  Ram. 

1 1  The  Master  Cooke  that  louiall  blade, 
All  day  good  mirth  and  pastime  made: 
Though  first  a  Tapster,  next  a  Groome, 
He  for  that  day  supplyde  the  roome 
Of  th'  Cooke,  and  he  with  many  a  flam 

got  money  for  the  rosted  Ram. 

1 2  One  man  among  the  rest  was  there, 
Who  meant  to  tast  of  this  good  cheare, 
But  he  was  glad  his  share  to  hide, 
For's  wife  came  in  and  began  to  chide. 

She  sware  he  should  dine  with  the  deuil  &  's  Dam 
before  he  should  eate  a  bit  o'th  Ram. 

1 3  This  poore  mans  credit  being  crackt, 
Alack  for  woe  the  market  slackt, 
For  all  the  women  did  consent. 

To  make  her  tongue  their  president: 

1  Text  'th. 


And  many  a  one  to  hinder  came 

their  husbands  from  the  taste  o  th  Ram. 

14  One  sort  of  wiues  were  not  so  bold, 
In  such  a  meeting  place  to  scold: 

Yet  'cause  their  husbands  shall  not  eate, 
On  purpose  they  dispraise  the  meate. 
But  I  eate  some,  and  sure  I  am, 

no  Venson's  sweeter  then  was  that  Ram. 

15  Though  ruling  husbands  few  did  taste. 
The  Ramme  was  eaten  vp  at  last: 
They  shau'd  him  barely  to  the  bones, 
Nay  some  did  cut  his  very  stones: 
Who  did  the  same  not  sure  I  am : 

who  euer  he  was  he  well  lou'd  Ram. 

16  Some  eate  the  rumpe,  and  some  the  feet. 
Not  asking  whether  the  meate  was  sweet. 
The  head  and  homes  I  cannot  tell, 
Unto  whose  share  by  right  they  fel. 

But  he  that  hath  a  wanton  wife, 

might  keepe  them  still  to  whet  his  knife. 

1 7  Thus  vnto  you  I  haue  exprest, 
The  manner  of  this  mery  feast: 
He  that  is  horned  like  a  beast. 
Perhaps  is  angry  at  this  lest. 
But  each  good  fellow  sure  I  am, 

will  buy  this  Ballad  of  the  Ram. 

18  If  here  be  any  scolding  wiues, 

I  wish  them  if  they  loue  their  Hues, 
In  any  case  not  buy  this  song. 
Which  doth  to  gentle  wiues  belong: 
Thus  from  the  Author  told  I  am, 
who  made  this  ditty  of  the  Ram. 


Printed  for  Francis  Coules. 



A  he-devil 

Pepys  I,  398,  B.L.,  one  woodcut,  four  columns. 

"The  Hee  divell"  was  registered  for  publication  by  Francis  Grove  on 
March  12,  1630  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  230).  Several  ballads  are  sung  to 
a  tune  named  from  it  (cf.  Roxburghe  Ballads,  11,  509). 

Martin  Parker  here  espouses  the  cause  of  ill-treated  married  women, 
but  not,  one  fears,  with  any  real  sympathy.  The  tune  of  The  She-Devil  is 
not  known  ("The  she  Divell  of  Westminster"  was  registered  by  Francis 
Coles  on  June  24,  1630),  but  at  once  suggests  that  Parker  had  first  written 
a  ballad  of  that  title  for  the  delectation  of  harassed  husbands  before  turning 
to  the  woes  of  married  women.  This  habit  of  his  has  already  been  men- 
tioned: undoubtedly  one  reason  for  his  enormous  popularity  with  the 
common  people  was  his  impartiality,  his  custom  of  writing  ditties  on  both 
sides  of  every  question.  Thus  his  satire  against  women,  "Keep  a  Good 
Tongue  in  Your  Head,"  was  immediately  followed  by  a  ballad  against 
brutal  husbands  called  "Hold  Your  Hands,  Honest  Men.  To  the  Tune 
of  Keep  a  Good  Tongue  in  Tour  Head''''  {Roxburghe  Ballads,  in,  237,  243). 

^  ^ee^iueU :  or, 
3f  tfjisi  l^omang  i|u£fbanti  tjsie  fjer  toell, 
3le  gap  gome  feinbnegge  map  tie  founb  in  l^ell. 

To  the  tune  of.  The  Shee-diuell. 

I    A  T  THen  I  a  Maiden  was, 
VV   I  long'd  to  be  married, 
But  now  (alas)  such  is  my  case, 

I  wish  I  had  longer  tarried, 
Matching  ouer  hastily 

hath  wrought  me  mickle  euill. 
She  that  weds  such  a  knaue  as  I, 
were  as  good  to  marry  the  Deuill. 


2  I  thought  each  day  as  long  as  a  yeere, 

vntill  that  I  was  mated, 
My  Mayden-head  I  could  not  beare, 

so  sore  that  life  I  hated: 
I  long'd  to  haue  a  man, 

with  pleasure  to  content  me, 
But  now  that  I  haue  gotten  one, 

it  sorely  doth  repent  me. 

3  For  he  is  such  a  dogged  wretch, 

and  doth  so  basely  vse  me. 
Many  a  sorrowfull  sigh  I  fetch, 

when  he  doth  beat  and  bruise  me. 
I  marryed  him  for  loue 

that  was  not  worth  a  farthing. 
And  yet  he  doth  ingratefull  proue, 

iudge,  is  not  this  a  hard  thing? 

4  Two  hundred  pounds  in  ready  coyne, 

my  father  did  bequeath  me. 
Which  I  (as  freely  as  'twas^  mine) 

did  giue  to  him  that  hath  me. 
Against  my  friends  consent, 

I  chose  him  for  my  pleasure, 
But  now  my  hasty  match  repent, 

I  doe  (as  they  say)  by  leasure. 

^f)£  sieconb  part  ^o  tte  siame  tune. 

5  T  TE  doth  consume  &  waste  my  means 
X  1  in  lewd  dishonest  fashion, 
Among  a  crew  of  Knaues  and  Oueanes 

which  turnes  to  my  vexation : 
And  if  I  speake  to  him, 

in  kindnesse,  to  reclaime  him, 
Heele  with  his  girdle  lace  my  skin, 

though  all  the  neighbours  blame  him. 

^  Text  t'was. 



6  Euery  day  I  labour  sore 

and  earne  my  food  with  sweating, 
Yet  all  the  thankes  I  haue  therefore, 

is  nought  vnlesse  't  be  a  beating. 
What  I  haue  earn'd  all  day, 

(alas)  I  speakt  with  sorrow, 
The  knaue  at  night  takes  all  away,  '.[ 

to  spend  vpon  the  morrow.  v 

7  And  glad  am  I  to  please  him  so,  "i 

If  I  might  but  Hue  quiet: 
While  he  doth  to  the  Ale-house  goe, 

I  worke  to  get  his  dyet. 
Though  my  labour  earnes  the  meat, 

I  nor  my  little  daughter. 
Till  he  hath  done,  dare  nothing  eate, 

but  dine  (like  seruants)  after. 

8  When  he  comes  home  drunke  at  night, 

if  supper  be  not  drest. 
Most  diuellishly  heele  raile  and  fight, 

though  humbly  I  request 
Him  to  be  patient, 

but  there  is  no  such  matter. 
And  if  the  meat  doe  not  him  content, 

heele  breake  my  head  with  the  platter. 

9  I  like  a  seruile  bond-slaue, 

doe  wipe  his  boots  and  shooes. 
And  yet  the  domineering  knaue, 

so  basely  doth  me  vse,^ 
That  if  one  spot  on  them  he  find, 

about  my  head  heele  beat  them. 
And  if  with  words  I  shew  my  mind, 

I  were  as  good  to  eat  them. 

^  Text  has  a  period. 



10  Though  such  a  portion  I  did  bring, 

as  before  is  said, 
Yet  I  doe  euery  droyling  thing, 

heele  let  me  keepe  no  Maide. 
I  wash  and  scowre, 

yet  (if  you  will  beleeue  me) 
I  seldome  Hue  a  quiet  houre. 

iudge  whether  this  doth  grieue  me. 

1 1  If  any  neighbour  me  inuite, 

to  gossipping,  or  feasting, 
I  dare  not  goe  (is  not  this  a  spight) 

for  feare  of  his  molesting. 
I  forth  to  supper  went  one  night, 

but  that  may  be  my  warning, 
Heele  not  indure  me  out  on's  sight, 

he  is  so  afraid  of  horning. 

1 2  How  can  it  chuse  but  griefe  me  still, 

to  see  some  of  my  neighbours. 
That  money  haue  to  spend  at  will 

out  of  their  husbands  labours. 
And  I  that  to  my  portion  brought 

two  hundred  pounds  in  money. 
Dare  neuer  doe,  as  women  ought, 

nor  hardly  spend  a  penny. 

13  If  any  time  he  money  lacke 

and  I  cannot  supply  him. 
Heel  pawn  my  garments  from  my  back, 

and  I  dare  not  deny  him, 
Tother  day  he  tooke  my  smocke, 

and  pawn'd  it  for  a  shilling, 
I  came,  and  found  him  at  the  Cocke, 

iust  when  the  drinke  was  filling. 

14  All  you  Maidens  faire, 

that  haue  a  mind  to  wed, 



Take  heed  and  be  aware, 

lest  you  like  me  be  sped. 
And  you  good  wiues, 

that  heare  my  wofull  Ditty, 
If  you  ere  bought  Ballad  in  your  Hues, 

buy  this,  for  very  pitty. 



Printed  for  F.  Groue,  on  Snow-hill. 



yohn  y arret 

Pepys,  I,  170,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

There  is  no  colophon,  but  the  ballad  was  no  doubt  printed  by  Francis 
Grove,  to  whom  it  was  licensed  as  "John  Jarrett"  on  December  20,  1630 
(Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  246). 

New  Year's  gifts  in  verse  were  great  favourites,  and  here  the  complacent 
Mrs  Jarret  is  represented  as  sending  to  her  thoroughly  dissolute  husband 
a  "gift"  in  rhyme,  urging  him  to  repent.  The  gift  was  printed  in  good  time 
for  the  beginning  of  the  new  style  year  (January  i),  for  although  England 
retained  the  old  style  of  dating  until  1752,  there  were  many  seventeenth- 
century  printers  who  consistently  dated  their  publications  stilo  novo.  A 
most  forbearing  and  stolid  wife  was  Mrs  Jarret:  apparently  her  objections 
to  gentle  John's  bad  courses  are  based  sheerly  on  the  economic  misfortunes 
that  will  result,  not  at  all  on  moral  grounds.  She  feels  little  or  no  sense  of 
personal  injury  because  of  his  gross  infidelity  and  libertinism.  One  hopes 
that  her  husband  saw  the  error  of  his  ways. 

For  the  tune  see  the  introduction  to  No.  41. 

3  tell  pou,  Joftn  3arret,  pou'l  breafec : 

Soljn  Sarretg  toiuesi  coungell  to  f)er  fjufibanti,  to  fjaue 

care  to  ijig  estate  in  tljisJ  tjartJ  time, 

legt  Ije  turne  Panfeerout. 

To  the  tune  of  the  wiu'tng  Age. 

I    T)Ray  gentle  lohn  larret.,  give  eare  to  my  words, 
X    It  is  my  true  kindnesse  this  counsell  affords, 
And  euery  good  husband  to  his  wife  accords: 
If  your  time  you  wast  away  at  Alehouse  boords, 

/  tell  you,  lohn  larret.,  you  I  breake., 

I  tell  you.,  lohn  larret.,  you  I  breake. 

R.p.G.  337  Y 


2  You  see  how  the  world  to  vices  incHnes, 
Which  if  you  doe  follow,  my  soule  thus  diuines, 
That  you'l  want  the  mony  which  you  waste  in  wines: 
Men  being  drunkards,  are  worse  than  base  swines. 

/  tell  you  lohn  I  arrets  ^c. 

3  They  say,  at  the  Talbot  you  runne  on  the  score, 
Beside,  at  S.  Katherines  you  keepe  a  braue  whore,^ 
Where  you  on  a  night  spent  an  Angell  and  more: 
If  you  vse  such  dealings,  twill  rriake  you  full  poore. 

/  tell  you ^  ^c. 

4  I  heare  y'  haue  a  wench,  they  call  her  Blacke  Kate, 
Whose  dwelling,  they  say,  is  neere  to  Billingsgate^ 
Besides,  how  you  gaue  her  a  new  gowne  of  late : 
If  you  vpon  harlots  doe  thus  waste  your  state,^ 

/  tell  you,  ^c. 

5  Besides,  at  S.  Toolies,  another  mans  wife. 

They  say  that  (John  larrei)  you  loue  as  your  life. 
Twixt  her  and  her  husband  you  daily  breed  strife. 
Consuming  your  meanes,  if  you  lead  still  this  life, 
/  tell  you,  is'c. 

6  I  heare  say  at  Wapping  that  you  keepe  another, 
And  when  you  goe  there,  you  say  tis  to  your  brother 
But  you  maintaine  her,  with  the  old  bawd  her  mother."^ 
Such  scuruy  dealings  I  by  no  meanes  can  smother: 

/  tell  you,  (fj'c. 

7  You  rise  in  the  morning  before  breake  of  day. 
And  vnto  the  Alehouse  you  straight  take  your  way. 
Where  you  in  base  manner  at  shuffle-boord  play, 
Untill  you  haue  wasted  your  money  away. 

/  tell  you,  &'c. 

1  Text  has  a  period.  ^  Nq  period  in  the  text. 


8  You  haue  a  Bastard  at  Brainford  to  nurse, 

That  weekly  dost  cost  you  two  shillings  thats  worse: 
These  things,  sweet  lohnlarret^  will  empty  your  purse.^ 
Besides,  if  you  still  perseuer  this  course, 
/  tel  you^  ^c. 

9  You  into  ill  company  daily  doe  rome, 

Whilst  I  and  your  children  sit  sighing  at  home. 
With  brown  bread  and  small  drink  I  sit  like  a  mome 
And  sometimes  at  midnight  you  drunke  in  do  come.^ 
/  tell you^  ^c. 

lo    This  is  a  hard  world,  and  euery  thing's  deare. 
Sweet  gentle  lohn  larret^  my  counsell  pray  heare 
Before  all  be  wasted,  I  pray  haue  a  care. 
For  if  you  doe  hold  this  course  one  other  yeere,^ 

/  tell you^  lohn  larret^  you  I  breake^ 

I  tell  you ^  lohn  larret^  you  I  breake. 

tlTfje  jEfeconb  part.  i;o  tfje  sfame  tune. 

1 1  ^^/Ou  see  how  the  Farmers  doe  hoord  vp  their  graine, 

X  No  eare  will  they  lend  to  the  poore  mens  complaine, 
Although  weshouldstarue,  these  Curmuginswillgaine.^ 
They  neuer  thinke  on  vs,  nor  pitty  our  paine, 
I  f eare  me^  lohn  larret^  you  I  breake^ 
I  j eare  me^  lohn  larret^  you  I  breake. 

12  This  is  no  world  to  borrow  nor  lend 
Nor  (if  you  consider  it)  vainely  to  spend: 
Receiue  this  my  counsell  (good  lohn)  as  a  friend. 
For  if  you  pursue  this  vaine  course  to  the  end, 

/  tell  you,  ^c, 

^  No  period  in  the  text.  ^  Text  has  a  period. 

339  Y2 


1 3  When  you  in  your  shop  should  be  plying  your  worke, 
In  some  scuruy  blinde  Alehouse  you  all  day  doe  lurke, 
More  like  than  a  Christian  to  some  lew  or  Turke: 
If  thus  you  neglect  your  liuing  and  worke, 

/  tell you^  ^c. 

14  Be  rul'd  by  my  counsell,  good  husband,  I  pray. 
For  'twill^  be  your  owne  I'm  sure  another  day: 
Yet,  if  you  please  Hue  full  well  you  may. 

But  if  you  persist  in  your  drinking  and  play, 
/  tell you^  ^c. 

1 5  You  know,  you  haue  wasted  away  a  good  Farme, 
And  now  we  want  firing  for  to  keepe  vs  warme, 
Besides  a  good  house  for  to  shelter  a  storme : 

I  giue  not  this  counsell  vnto  you  for  harme : 
/  tell  you,  &'c. 

16  Giue  ouer  in  time  your  scuruy  base  whores, 

For  feare  they  should  fill  you  with  scars  &  with  sores 

And  laboure  besides  to  pay  your  old  scores : 

If  whores  still  you  follow,  with  company  that  rores, 

/  tell  you,  ^c. 

1 7  You  see  that  the  ould  yeare  is  almost  quite  spent,^ 
The  new  one  is  comming,  good  lohn  then  repent 
Your  wicked  old  follies,  and  with  one  consent, 
Your  downe-sinking  state  with  care  to  preuent. 

/  tell  you,  i^c. 

1 8  Some  that  haue  enough,  at  Gods  blessings  repine. 
But  whilest  I  Hue,  that  fault  shall  not  be  mine. 
Then  to  thy  power,  sweet  lohn,  with  me  ioyne. 
And  pray  that  God  daily  will  guard  thee  and  thine, 

/  tell  you,  iffc? 

1  Text  t'will.  ^  No  comma  in  the  text.  ^  Text  i^c,. 



19  Be  rul'd  by  your  wife,  that  doth  loue  you  full  deare, 
And  all  ill  society  see  you  forbeare, 

And  of  these  children  I  pray  haue  a  care, 
Begin  a  new  course,  I  pray,  with  the  yeare, 
Or  else^  sweety  ^c. 

20  There  commeth  no  goodnes  by  following  of  queene[s]^ 
But  ryotous  drinking,  and  wasting  of  meanes. 
Who  trusts  to  such  harlots,  on  wickednes  leanes. 
And  may  with  the  Prodigall  feed  vpon  beanes. 

/  tell  you  ^  lohn  larret^  you' I  breake^ 
I  tell you^  lohn  larret^  you  I  breake. 

1  Margin  clipped. 



A  wonder  in  Kent 

Pepys,  I,  72,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

This  jocular  ballad  celebrates  the  "stomach's  exploits"  of  Nicholas 
Wood,  of  Kent.  It  was  suggested  by  and  closely  paraphrases  (cf.  the  last 
stanza)  a  twenty-page  pamphlet  written  by  John  Taylor,  the  Water  Poet, 
and  published  by  Henry  Gosson  in  1630  under  the  title  of  The  Great 
Eater,  Of  Kent,  Or  Part  Of  The  Admi-rable  Teeth  And  Stomachs  Exploits 
of  Nicholas  Wood,  of  Harrisom  in  the  County  of  Kent.  His  Excessive  Manner  d| 
Of  Eating  Withovt  manners,  in  strange  and  true  manner  described  (British 
Museum,  C.  31.  c.  9;  reprinted  in  Charles  Hindley's  Old  Book  Collector's 
Miscellany,  vol.  iii).  The  pamphlet  begins  with  an  address  by  Taylor  "To 
The  Most  Famous,  Infamous,  High  and  Mighty  Feeder,  Nicholas 
Wood,"  who  is  described  on  page  18  as  follows: 

he  is  swarty,  blackish  haire,  Hawk-nosed  (like  a  Parrot,  or  a  Roman)  hee  is 
wattle-Iawde,  and  his  eyes  are  sunke  inward,  as  if  hee  looked  into  the  inside  of 
his  intrayles,  to  note  what  custom'd  or  vncustom'd  goods  he  tooke  in,  whilst 
his  belly  (like  a  Maine-sayle  in  a  calme)  hangs  ruffled  and  wrinkled  (in  folds 
and  wreathes)  flat  to  the  mast  of  his  empty  carkasse,  till  the  storme  of  aboundance 
fills  it,  and  violently  driues  it  into  the  full  sea  of  satisfaction. 

A  person  of  similar  achievements,  J.  Marriot,  of  Gray's  Inn,  was 
written  up  in  numerous  tracts  and  ballads  in  1652  (see  Thomason  Tracts, 
E.  667(8),  E.  668(20)).  Both  men  are  referred  to  in  The  Loves  of  Hero 
and  Leander,  1653,  p.  51: 

Their  teeth  so  sharp,  their  stomacks  keen  , 

That  Harriots  you  would  them  ween,  f 

Or  Wood  or  Kents  own  Bastards.  I 

Professor  Kittredge  suggests  that  Woolner  of  Windsor,  the  famous  eater,  '' 
be  mentioned,  and  states  that  references  to  him  are  made  in  Arber's  English 
Garner,  1897,  vi,  276;  Gabriel  Harvey's  Works,  ed.  A.  B.  Grosart,  11, 
231 ;  Nugae  Antiquae,  ed.  Park,  ii,  96;  Archie  Armstrong's  fests,  ed.  1 889, 
p.  112;  and  Poor  Robin  s  Almanac,  1697,  under  "August."  Perhaps  the 
person  who  nowadays  comes  nearest  to  Wood's  record  is  "America's 
tallest  immigrant"  "who  is  twenty-four  years  old,  stands  eight  feet  six 
inches  and  is  said  to  eat  twenty-four  eggs  for  breakfast"  (New  York  Times, 
September  26,  1920).  The  greatest  possible  contrast  to  Wood  is  the 
remarkable  Miss  Eve  Fliegen,  who  lived  for  sixteen  years  on  the  smell  of 
a  rose:  see  the  ballad  on  her  in  the  Shirburn  Ballads,  p.  55,  and  cf.  my 
notes  in  the  Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  xxx  (1917),  372. 


The  tune  of  The  maunding  soldier  is  derived  from  Martin  Parker's 
ballad,  "The  Maunding  Soldier;  Or,  The  Fruits  of  War  Is  Beggary.  To 
the  Tune  of  Permit  me.  Friends'''  {Roxburghe  Ballads,  in,  1 1 1).  Richard 
Chmsal  has  left  many  other  ballads  {e.g.,  ibid,  i,  207,  499,  509;  11,  7,  28 1). 

^  toonlrer  in  Kent: 
^i  tfic  admirable  jEStomacke  of  one  Nicholas  Wood, 
btoeUing  at  Harrisom^  in  tfje  Count?  of  Kent. 

Cfje  lifee  of  tint  toasi  neuer  fjearb, 
^g  in  tJjisJ  Bittp  ig  beclar'b. 

To  the  tune  of,  The  maunding  Souldier. 

I      ALL  you  that  valiant  fellowes  be, 
^^^  I  pray  giue  eare  a  while  to  me, 
I  tell  you  of  a  Champion  bold, 

^  I.e.  Harrietsharn, 



That  fights  not  for  the  fame  of  gold, 

but  for  good  belly  cheare, 

as  well  it  doth  appeare, 
the  like  wherof  you  nere  did  heare.  ^ 

none  may  with  him  compare, 

as  I  will  here  declare, 
the  like  Hues  not  I  dare  to  sweare. 

In  Kent  this  fellow  now  doth  Hue, 
At  Harrisom  as  report  doth  giue. 
His  Name  is  called  Nicholas  Wood, 
As  I  for  truth  haue  vnderstood, 
well  knowne  by  men  of  fame, 
his  worth  and  name, 
that  well  can  iustifie  the  same, 
some  Gentlemen  and  Knights, 
to  satisfie  delights, 
haue  sent  for  Wood  to  see  his  sleights. 

He  is  not  like  these  puling  ones. 
That  sits  an  houre  picking  bones, 
A  Sheepe  or  Calfe  thats  worth  a  Marke, 
On  them  heele  brauely  fall  to  worke, 

or  if  a  Hogge  it  be, 

all's  one  quoth  he, 
in  one  houres  space  you  none  shall  see, 

his  stomacke  is  so  strong, 

nothing  will  doe  him  wrong, 
the  Deuill  is  sure  his  guts  among. 

What  talke  I  of  a  Sheepe  or  Calfe, 

Alas  these  exploits  are  not  halfe, 

A  Hogs  a  thing  that  much  will  eate. 

Fish,  Flesh,  Fowles,  Frogges,  or  such  like  meat, 

yet  Wood  is  of  such  power, 

that  he  within  an  houre 
a  good  fat  Hogge  he  did  deuoure, 

his  like  was  neuer  none 

as  plainely  may  be  shone, 
not  one  like  him  was  euer  known. 



5  After  that  he  had  eate  this  Hogge, 
I  doe  not  meane  to  lye  nor  cogge, 
Three  pecks  of  Damsons  he  did  eat, 
For  to  digest  his  Swinish  meat, 

Another  time  beside, 

he  being  tride: 
seuen  dozen  of  Rabbets  he  destroy'd, 

likewise  he  tooke  in  hand, 

to  eat  a  Fleath  of  Brawne 
as  soone  as  from  the  Bore  twas  drawne.^ 

6  At  Sir  William  Sidleyes  house  he  eat, 
As  men  of  credit  doe  repeat. 

As  much  as  thorowly  would  suffice. 
Full  thirty  men.  Oh  gurmundize, 
but  then  vnto  the  fire, 
he  did  retire, 
and  for  some  grease  he  did  desire, 
thinking  his  belly  he 
would  breake  immediately 
vnlesse  he  had  speedy  remedy.^ 

7  A  quarter  of  a  good  fat  Lambe, 
And  threescore  Egges  he  ouercame. 
And  eighteene  yards  of  blacke  pudding. 
And  a  raw  Ducke  all  but  Bill  and  Wing, 

and  after  he  had  din'd, 

as  I  doe  find, 
he  longed  for  Cherries  yt  brauely  shined;^ 

the  threescore  pound  they  brought, 

which  he  consumed  to  nought, 
a  thing  vnpossible  me  thought. ^ 

8  His  mighty  paunch  doth  harbour  all, 
Sheepe,  Hoggs  or  Calues,  tis  like  a  stall, 
A  Parke  it  is  likewise  for  Deare, 

^  Text  has  a  comma.  ^  Nq  punctuation  in  the  text. 



And  Conneyes  gray,  or  siluer  haire;^ 

a  storehouse  tis  besides 

whereas  he  hides 
all  kind  of  fruits  that  him  betides,^ 

Cheese,  Buttermilke  and  Whey, 

he  bringeth  in  that  way, 
thus  he  brings  all  quite  to  decay. 

Wt^t  ^ttonh  part.  Co  tfje  game  tune. 

9    '  I  "He  Norfolke  Dumpling  he  ore  came, 

■1-  The  Deuonshire  white-pot  he  made  tame,* 
The  bag-pudding  of  Glocester,* 
The  blackepudding  of  Wostershire, 
the  Shrop-shire  pan-pudding, 
and  such  gutting, 
and  Somersetshire  white-pudding, 
or  any  other  Shire, 
their  puddings  heele  not  feare,^ 
none  may  w^  Nicholas  Wood  compare : 

10  The  Clothiers  that  in  Kent  doe  dwell. 
In  Sussex  of  this  man  did  tel. 

To  some  o'th  chiefest  yeomen  theie, 
Who  greatly  mused  when  they  did  heare, 
and  ofred  presently 
that  they  would  lay, 
a  hundred  pound  of  good  money, 
that  he  could  not  deuoure, 
a  whole  calfe  in  an  houer, 
they  thought  it  was  not  in  his  power. 

1 1  The  wager  thus  betwixt  them  laid, 
The  Sussex  men  grew  sore  afraid. 
And  of  their  match  they  did  repent, 
Desiring  that  they  might  recant; 

the  kentish  men  did  say, 
that  they  should  pay, 

^  No  punctuation  in  the  text. 


ten  pounds  or  stand  the  match  and  day, 

then  so  they  did  agree, 

and  spent  it  merrily, 
but  JVood  mist  of  their  company. 

1 2  A  Gentleman  by  chance  did  come, 
Where  friends  of  his  was  in  the  roome 
And  they  were  all  at  diner  set. 

But  he  with  them  eate  not  a  bit;, 
when  the  reckoning  was  paid, 
the  tapster  said 
that  twelue  pence  more  must  be  defraid, 
by  him  that  last  came  in, 
which  had  not  at  diner  ben 
whereat  the  Gentleman  in  spleene,^ 

1 3  Did  pay  the  same  and  said  no  more. 
But  after  plagued  them  therefore, 
An  other  time  he  did  come  there. 

And  brought  Wood  with  him  to  a  faire '? 

then  to  the  Inne  he  went, 

whereas  he  spent, 
a  shilling  once  by  ill  consent,^ 

and  telling  Wood  his  mind, 

being  thus  inclin'd, 
to  call  much  meat  &  leaue  Wood  behind.^ 

14  Come  hostes  quickly  let  be  brought 
As  much  good  meat  as  may  be  thought 
To  satisfie  a  dozen  men. 

The  hostes  quickly  sent  it  in.^ 

come  sit  downe  Wood  quoth  he, 

and  He  goe  see, 
for  some  more  of  our  company, 

but  ere  hee  came  agen, 

the  tapster  he  came  in 
thinking  the  deuill  there  had  ben. 

^  Text  has  a  period.  ^  No  punctuation  in  the  text. 



15  The  tapster  did  his  Mistris  call, 
And  said  the  man  had  eat  vp  all, 

Then  into  th'  roome  she  came  with  speed. 
And  found  the  same  was  true  indeed, 
then  she  began  to  sweare 
and  pull  and  teare 
with  Wood  for  money  for  his  fare 
and  he  said  he  was  willing, 
to  pay  her  downe  a  shilling  :i 
he  fitted  her  for  former  dealing. 

1 6  Two  Citizens  from  London  went. 
To  see  this  Wood  was  their  intent. 
And  being  come  to  Harrisom^ 
They  sent  for  him  into  the  roome, 

for  all  the  victuals  they 

did  call  and  pay, 
that  was  within  the  house  that  day, 

and  wished  goodman  Wood^ 

to  fall  vnto  his  food.^ 
I  marry  quoth  he  that  is  good. 

1 7  These  Citizens  found  him  to  be, 

So  strange  the  like  they  ne'r  did  see. 
Desiring  him  that  he  would  goe. 
To  London^  he  resolued  so, 
then  at  the  last  he  said, 
he  was  afraid 
the  same  to  th'^  King  should  be  beraid; 
and  so  he  hang'd  might  be, 
therefore  this  thought  had  he, 
tis  best  staying  in  Kent  for  me^ 

1  No  punctuation  in  the  text.  2  y^^^  to'th. 

3  According  to  the  pamphlet,  John  Taylor  himself  made  this  offer  to 


1 8    His  porrige  boule  is  full  two  pecks, 
He  is  not  of  the  weakest  sexe, 
Good  Ale  graines  some  times  he  doth  eate, 
For  want  of  other  sort  of  meat, 
I  doe  not  tell  no  lye, 
those  that  will  further  try, 
a  booke  of  him  likewise  may  buy, 
where  much  more  is  declared, 
as  I  haue  read  and  heard 
none  like  to  him  may  be  compared. 



Printed  at  London  for  H.G. 



The  judgment  of  Solomon 

Pepys,  I,  30,  B.L.,  one  woodcut,  four  columns. 

In  the  main,  the  ballad  is  a  paraphrase  of  i  Kings,  iii,  16-28,  with 
passages  here  and  there  from  other  books  dealing  with  Solomon's  life;  as, 
2  Chronicles,  ix,  7,  for  the  words  of  the  Queen  of  Sheba  in  stanza  four. 
Henry  Gosson  printed  during  the  years  1603— 1640.  For  the  tune  see 
Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  196. 

Cfic  ^ubgement  of  Salomon : 

Sn  bififcerning  ttjc  true  iWotfjer  from  tfje  fal£fe,  tij»  fjer 

compaggion,  giuing  sientence  to  biuilre  tlje  Ci)ilbe. 

To  the  tune  oi  the  Ladies  fall. 

WHen  Dauid  ouer  Israel,  had 
ruled  full  forty  yeares, 
And  on  his  Throne  securely  sate, 
as  plainely  it  appeares: 


Stricken  in  yeares,  and  full  of  dayes, 

and  nature  almost  spent, 
To  set  his  Sonne  vpon  that  Throne, 

his  minde  was  fully  bent. 

For  fearing  lest  that  he  should  dye, 

without  the  choyse  of  one: 
That  might  as  he  had  done  before 

sit  still  on  Israels  Throne: 
And  to  preuent  the  discord  that 

amongst  his  sonnes  might  rise. 
He  pickes  out  one,  and  makes  him  King, 

before  Death  closd  his  eyes. 

Whose  name  was  Salomon^  a  man, 

of  rare,  and  excellent  parts: 
Yea,  such  a  man  he  was,  that  if 

any  by  their  deserts 
Might  claime  a  Crowne,  then  Salomon^ 

of  whom  the  earth  did  ring, 
Deserud  it,  and  none  fitter  could 

olde  Dauid  chuse  for  King. 

Such  was  his  wisedome,  that  the  Queene 

of  Sheba  from  the  South 
Came,  for  to  heare  those  words  that  did 

proceede  out  of  his  mouth : 
Which  when  sh'ad  heard,  pronounc'd  them  blest, 

and  happy  for  to  be: 
That  his  Attendants  were,  and  did 

wayte  on  his  Maiestie. 

His  wisedome  made  him  shine  more  bright 

then  did  the  Roabes  he  wore. 
And  made  him  in  the  peoples  sight 

to  be  respected  more. 
Then  all  the  costly  lemms  that  hee, 

or  ornaments  had  on: 
Or  then  the  Throne  that  thus  adorn'd, 

he  vsd  to  sit  vpon. 


6  Whose  wisedome  was  principally 

vnto  the  world  made  knowne: 
In  a  iust  sentence  that  he  gaue 

to  th'i  Harlots  which  did  come 
To  him  for  Justice,  'bout  a  childe, 

that  both  layd  claime  vnto, 
Whose  cause  to  heare  he  did  assent, 

and  did  determine  to. 

Cije  sfeconb  part,  ^o  tfje  siame  tune. 

7  '  I  "He  Harlots  standing  then  before 

-L  the  presence  of  the  King: 
W^ith  faltring  speech  and  trembling  tongue, 

one  straite  declares  the  thing: 
Saying,  my  Lord  we  women  had 

lately  two  children  small. 
Which  of  all  earthly  ioyes  we  did 

esteeme  them  most  of  all. 

8  We  had  them  much  about  one  time, 

and  both  were  of  one  sex. 
And  one  house  doth  containe  vs  both, 

tis  this  that  doth  perplex 
My  troubled  soule  th'one  Harlot  said, 

seeing  her  Childe  is  dead. 
She  labours  all  she  can  to  haue 

mine,  in  her  Infants  stead. 


For  in  the  night  she  ouer-layd 

her  childe,  and  it  did  dye: 
But  waking  straitway,  she  perceiu'd, 

and  this  sad  sight  did  spie: 
She  straightway  rose,  and  forthwith  came 

at  midnight  to  my  bed: 
And  tooke  from  me  my  liuing  childe, 

and  left  with  me  hers  dead. 

1  Texito'th. 


10  But  in  the  morning  when  I  wak'd, 

not  knowing  what  was  done: 
By  this  vilde  woman  which  doth  seeke, 

to  bereaue  me  of  my  sonne: 
And  taking  gently  in  mine  armes, 

as  then  I  thought,  my  childe: 
I  straight  perceiu'd  it  was  not  mine, 

and  that  I  was  beguil'd. 

1 1  Nay,  said  the  other  Harlot  then, 

the  childe  that  Hues  is  mine: 
And  that  same  Infant  that  is  dead, 

assuredly  was  thine : 
That's  false  reply'd  the  other  straight, 

for  that  that  Hues  (said  she) 
Is  none  of  thine,  I  did  it  beare, 

and  it  belongs  to  me. 

12  Thus  whatsoe'r  the  one  did  say, 

the  other  did  deny: 
And  what  the  other  did  affirme, 

did  th'  other  presently, 
Cryi  out  vpon  as  false  and  vaine, 

nor  would  they  ere  they  said, 
Nor  possibly  could  quietnesse 

betwixt  them  both  be  made. 

13  Therefore  they  did  implore  the  helpe, 

and  wisedome  of  the  King, 
Whose  eye  could  onely  pierce  into 

so  difficult  a  thing: 
That  he  would  graciously  be  pleas'd, 

as  he  had  heard  it  so: 
He  would  giue  sentence  to  their  cause, 

which  they  would  stand  vnto. 


1  TextCry'd. 


14  Salomon  causd  the  liuing  childe 

in  the  midst  to  be  plac'd, 
Of  both  those  Harlots  that  did  seeke 

each  other  to  disgrace: 
And  one  of  his  seruants  he  charg'd 

to  fetch  a  sword  straightway; 
Which  to  him  presently  was  brought 

without  the  least  delay. 

1 5  Which  sword  he  to  his  seruant  gaue, 

putting  it  in  his  hand, 
Enioyning  him  to  execute 

whate're  he  did  command. 
Diuide  the  childe  (saith  he)  and  giue 

to  each  of  them  a  part : 
Which  words  did  pierce  the  true  Mother 

vnto  the  very  heart. 

16  Who  humbly  did  beseech  the  King, 

rather  then  it  should  dye, 
To  giue  it  to  the  other  all, 

that  with  her  did  stand  by: 
Nay  answered  the  false  Mother  then, 

the  King  hath  it  decided: 
Neither  thine,  nor  mine,  the  childe  shall  be, 

but  let  it  be  diuided. 

1 7  King  Salomon  weigh'd  both  their  words, 

and  looking  on  them  both. 
Did  say,  that  she  the  Mother  is 

that  most  compassion  shew'th : 
Giue  her  the  childe  that  did  lament, 

for  such  an  Infant  pretty. 
And  when  it  should  haue  mangled  beene, 

was  moued  vnto  pitty. 

1 8  The  Mother  gladly  did  receiue 

her  tender  Babe  againe : 



Which  the  false  Mother  cruelly- 
desired  might  be  slaine: 

And  when  the  people  heard  the  words, 
and  sentence  of  the  King: 

Cry'd  all  with  voyce  most  lowd,  God  blesse 
Salomon  in  euery  thing. 

At  London  Printed  for  Henry  Gosson, 
^  No  period  in  the  text. 




'T/j  not  otherwise 

Pepys,  I,  394,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Perhaps  the  point  of  view  of  the  average  married  man  is  well  stated 
here,  though  possibly  too  much  stress  is  laid  on  the  mere  physical  comforts 
that  attend  marriage.  After  the  many  ballads  in  which  that  sacrament  is 
abused,  the  present  defence  of  marriage  is  a  bit  refreshing.  From  the 
opening  lines  it  is  evident  that  this  song  is  a  reply  to  some  doleful  ditty  in 
which  a  young  married  man  laments  his  loss  of  liberty  and  his  never- 
ending  woes.  The  printer  was  no  doubt  G[eorge]  B[lackwall],  whose 
publications  appeared  during  1626-1636.  The  date  of  1630,  accordingly, 
may  be  assumed  for  this  ballad.  For  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular  Music, 
I,  380. 

Cts!  not  ottertDtfiie : 
Ctie  pratsie  of  a  marrtet)  life. 

To  the  tune  of.  Vie  neuer  loue  thee  more. 

I      A  Young  man  lately  did  complaine 
±\.  because  that  he  was  wed: 
And  counsel'd  others  to  abstaine 

from  Hymeneal  bed : 
Had  years  but  giuen  him  man-like  thoughts, 
hee'd^  not  bin  so  vnwise, 
•  For  wiues  increase  mans  happines, 

then  '  Tis^  not  otherwise. 

1    What  ioy  is  there  vpon  the  earth 

but  Mariage  makes  it  more, 
It  is  to  man  a  second  birth, 

and  openeth  the  doore 
To  happines,  and  such  delight 

that  none  but  they  comprize: 
1  Text  he'ed.  ^  Text  throughout  t'is. 


They  pleasures  haue  both  day  and  night, 
then  'tis  not  otherwise. 

When  I  was  single  I  did  stray 

in  heart,  in  words,  and  life. 
But  I  haue  found  a  better  way 

I  thanke  my  louing  wife: 
I  now  Hue  free  from  all  suspect, 

and  many  wicked  lyes, 
The  good  I  wisht,  hath  tooke  effect, 

then  'tis  not  otherwise. 

Much  company  I  vs'd  to  keepe, 

before  I  had  a  wife. 
The  memory  doth  make  me  weepe, 

for  'twas^a  wicked  life: 
Such  comfort  now  at  home  I  finde, 

from  Mariage  to  arise, 
I  wish  all  men  were  in  my  minde, 

then  'tis  not  otherwise. 

Unthrifty  games  I  now  haue  left 

as  Tables,  Cards  and  Dice, 
That  oft  hath  me  of  wealth  bereft, 

I  curse  no  Ace,  nor  Sice: 
I  do  not  now  the  Cards  bid  burne, 

that  made  my  anger  rise, 
A  wife  hath  caused  me  to  turne, 

then  'tis  not  otherwise.'^ 

So  ciuill  I  am  growne  of  late 

since  that  I  made  my  choice, 
I  hate  each  swearing  swaggering  mate, 

which  makes  me  to  reioyce: 
The  company  I  now  do  keepe, 

are  honest  men  and  wise, 
That  not  with  drinke,  but  sence  do  sleepe, 

then  'tis  not  otherwise. 
^   Text  t'was.  ^  No  period  in  the  text. 



7  No  Constable  nor  watch  feare  I, 

that  cryeth  JVho  goes  there? 
I  doe  not  reele,  but  soberly 

can  passe  them  void  of  care: 
I  vse  no  caudels  in  the  morne, 

I  drinke  not  out  mine  eyes, 
My  wife  hath  made  me  these  to  scorne, 

then  V/j  not  otherwise. 

8  This  diet  makes  me  to  forget 

the  head-ach  that  some  haue, 
Which  makes  them  for  all  things  vnfit, 

(to  drinke  I  am  no  slaue.) 
Those  men  their  vertue  hath  out-worne, 

that  drinke  doth  so  disguise, 
My  wife  hath  made  me  this  to  scorne, 

then  'tis  not  otherwise. 

W)t  sieconb  part.  tlTo  tfje  siame  tune. 

9      A  Gainst  I  from  my  labour  come, 
■l\.  my  wife  prouides  me  meat: 
When  I  was  single  none  at  home, 

found  I,  or  what  to  eate. 
At  sight  of  me  she  layes  the  cloath, 

and  then  for  meat  she  hies, 
Which  makes  me  to  forget  all  sloath, 

then  Uis  not  otherwise. 

lo    If  I  seeme  discontent  with  ought, 

she  kindly  prayes  me  tell. 
If  that  it  may  be  beg'd  or  bought, 

(or  where  it  is  to  sell :) 
That  would  me  please,  &  merry  make 

the  teares  stand  in  her  eyes 
Till  I  my  discontent  forsake: 

then  'tis  not  otherwise. 



11  It  is  a  comfort  for  to  see, 

good  women  meeke  and  mild, 
That  to  her  come  in  charity, 

when  that  she  is  with  child: 
They  comfort  her  if  she  do  sound, 

one  for  strong  water  hies. 
And  so  their  husbands  healths  drinke  round, 

then  '//j  not  otherwise. 

1 2  When  that  she  doth  in  child-bed  lye,i 

the  neighbours  in  their  loue, 
Will  with  her  sit,  and  pleasantly 

to  mirth  they  doe  her  moue : 
By  christning  of  my  little  lad 

I  did  in  credit  rise: 
All  this  by  my  good  wife  I  had, 

then  Vz5  not  otherwise. 

1 3  For  gossiping  they  send  in  meat, 

would  well  serue  forty  men, 
As  good  as  any  man  can  eate, 

for  mutton,  pig,  or  hen; 
They  eate  not  halfe  but  leaue  it  me, 

there  profit  doth  arise: 
This  Cometh  by  a  wife  you  see, 

then  '//j  not  otherwise, 

14  One  giues  a  peece,  and  one  a  spoone 

vnto  my  pretty  childe, 
And  wish  that  ere  to  morrow  noone, 

their  cradles  to  be  fil'd 
With  such  a  pretty  child  as  this: 

ioy  there  to  me  doth  rise, 
Had  I  no  wife  all  this  I  misse, 

then  V/j  not  otherwise. 

I  5    The  babe  doth  grow,  and  quickly  speaks, 
this  doth  increase  my  ioy, 

1  Text  has  a  period. 



To  heare  it  tattle,  laugh,  and  squeake, 

I  smile  and  hug  the  boy: 
I  with  it  play  with  great  delight, 

and  hush  it  when  it  cryes, 
And  euer  wish  it  in  my  sight, 

then  'tis  not  otherwise. 

1 6    All  Batchelors  I  wish  you  wed, 

if  merry  you  would  Hue, 
A  single  man  is  oft  misled, 

and  seldome  doth  he  thriue: 
I  liu'd  before,  but  better  now, 

my  ioy  and  wealth  arise. 
To  Hue  well  I  haue  showne  you  how, 

then  'tis  not  otherwise. 

Printed  at  London  by  G.B. 



A  goodfellow* s  complaint 

Pepys,  I,  438,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

This  "pussyfoot"  complaint  should  be  compared  with  Edward  Culler's 
(No.  27).  It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  "honest  Jack,"  the  goodfellow,  re- 
forms not  because  of  moral  or  religious  scruples,  but  simply  because  he 
has  no  money  with  which  to  buy  strong  beer — "a  good  cause  why,"  as  he 
truly  remarks.  Similar  in  idea  and  expression  is  "Wade's  Reformation" 
{Bagford Ballads,  i,  6)  with  the  refrain,  "And  'tis  old  Ale  has  undone  me." 
The  date  is  perhaps  about  1630.  The  tune  appears  to  be  unknown. 

^  goobfellotDes;  complaint  againsit  sitrong  bcerc, 

Cafee  fjeeb  goobfeUotoesf  for  fteere  j>ou  map  JSee 
llolD  it  ig  strong  beere  tfjat  fjat!)  bnbone  mc. 

To  the  Tune  of  <?  day  zvill  come  shall  pay  for  all. 

1  A^-'-^  y*^^  good  fellowes  who  loue  strong  beere, 
-^~^  In  time  be  warned  the  same  to  flee 

For  I  can  make  it  plaine  appeare 

How  tis  strong  beare  that  has  vndon  me. 

2  I  vsd  all  company  to  keepe, 
Which  was  my  downfall  now  I  see 
For  pouertie  on  mee  doth  creepe, 

And  tis  strong  beerre^  that  has  vndon  mee. 

3  I  once  enioyed  both  house  and  land, 
But  now  'tis^  otherwise  you  see, 

My  moneys  spent  my  cloaihes  are  pawnd: 
And  tis  strong  beere  that  has  vndone  mee. 
1  Sic.  2  Textx'xi. 



4  Now  I  haue  wasted  my  estate, 
Which  was  enough  to  maintaine  three, 
Ime  faine  to  Hue  at  an  vnder  rate, 

For  this  strong  beere  that  has  vndone  me. 

5  O  how  it  greeues  my  hart  to  thinke. 
That  they  who  had  my  money  free, 
Now  I  am  poore  from  me  they  shrinke, 
O  this  strong  beere  has  vndone  me. 

6  When  I  had  coine  enough  to  spend. 
Among  good  fellowes  who  but  me, 
Then  each  one  stroue  to  be  my  friend: 
Until  strong  beere  had  vndon  me. 

7  Now  all  is  gone  and  nothing  left, 
It  is  not  as  it  was  wont  to  be. 
Of  all  my  friends  I  am  bereft, 

O  thus  strong  beere  has  vndon  me.^ 

8  For  now  my  company  they^  shunne. 
And  where  I  come  away  they  flee. 
Which  makes  me  sing  this  heauy  tune: 

0  tis  strong  beere  that  has  vndon  me.' 

9  They  say  tis  money  makes  a  man, 
Experience  prooues  it  true  I  see. 
For  my  assotiates  from  mee  rane. 
When  thus  strong  beere  had  vndone  me.^ 

10  For  when  I  had  clothes  to  my  backe, 
And  coine  to  call  for  liquor  free, 

1  neuer  did  companions  lacke, 
Untill  strong  beere  had  vndon  me. 

1 1  But  now  I  haue  consumed  all. 
And  am  as  poore  as  poore  may  be, 
Here's  many  laugh  to  see  my  fall. 
Now  this  strong  beere  has  vndone  me. 

^  Comma  in  the  text.  2  Text  thy. 

^  Text  mo. 



1 2  The  world  is  growne  to  such  a  passe, 
That  if  your  meanes  consumed  be, 
You  shall  be  counted  but  an  asse 
And  thus  strong  beere  hath  vndon  me: 

Cte  sfeconti  part.  ®o  tfje  game  ^une.^ 

13  \^ /"Hen-  I  had  coine  no  tapster  durst, 

VV   Refuse  to  trust  me  shillings  three, 
But  now  thele  see  my  money  first. 
Because  strong  beere  has  vndone  mee. 

14  Unto  a  Tapster  once  I  came, 

You'r  welcome  Sir,  draw  neere  quoth  he, 
But  now  the  slaue  wo'not  know  my  name. 
Because  strong  beere  has  vndone  mee. 

1 5  My  little  hostes  at  the  crowne. 
Would  often  sit  vpon  my  knee. 

But  now  sheele  cry  away  thou  clowne, 
Because  strong  beere  has  vndone  me. 

16  Besides  ther's  Tapsters  three  or  foure. 
Where  I  haue  spent  my  money  free. 
Are  like  to  thrust  me  out  of  doore, 
And  say  there  is  no  roome  for  me. 

1 7  But  if  I  could  get  vp  my  meanes,   ^ 
As  that  I  doubt  will  neuer  be, 

I  sure  would  fit  those  Knaues  and  Queenes, 
But  now  strong  beere  has  vndone  me. 

18  O  is  not  this  a  hellish  spight. 
That  I  should  thus  reiected  be. 
Who  lately  liu'd  in  such  delight, 
Before  strong  beere  had  vndone  me. 

19  When  I  doe  call  to  minde  the  dayes, 
Which  I  againe  shall  neuer  see. 

In  which  ^torments  me  many  wayes, 
Alas  strong'*  beere  has  vndone  me. 

1  No  period  in  the  text.  2  Text  Wheu. 

^  Read  It  then  ?  *  Text  stroug. 



20  Full  many  a  shilling  haue  I  spent, 
And  cride  hang  sorrow  let  it  fly, 
In  drinke  and  smoke  away  it  went, 
And  thus  strong  beere  hath  vndone  me. 

2 1  Then  who  but  I  among  the  rout. 

Of  louiall  Blades  should  welcome  be, 
But  now  my  pouerty  they  flout. 
Because  strong  beere  has  vndone  me. 

22  Then  would  good  fellowes  to  me  say, 
Heere  honest  lacke  ile  drinke  to  thee, 
Because  they  knew  I  still  would  pay, 
Untill  strong  beere  had  vndone  me. 

23  Now  they  who  hung  vpon  my  purse, 
If  I  through  want  should  starued  be, 
Will  not  a  groate  for  me  disburse. 
Because  strong  beere  has  vndone  me. 

24  And  if  I  passe  by  the  ale-house  doore. 
My  host  will  say,  looke  there  goes  he, 
I  knew  him  rich  but  now  hee's  poore. 
And  thus  strong  beere  has  vndone  me. 

25  All  you  good  fellowes  that  heare  my  case. 
Take  heede  least  it^  your  owne  case  be, 

I  might  haue  liu'd  void  of  disgrace. 
Had  not  strong  beere  thus  vndone  me. 

26  Shake  of  ill  company  in  time. 
Which  wrongeth  many  a  man  you  see. 
Now  I  through  them  am  like  to  pine. 
And  tis  strong  beere  that  has  vndone  me. 

27  Farewell  strong  beere  my  mortall  foe, 
lie  drinke  no  more  therefore  of  thee, 
A  good  cause  why  my  purse  is  lowe, 
For  thou  strong  beere  hast  vndone  mee. 


Printed  for  F.  Groue 
^   Text  in. 



T'he  honesty  plain-dealing  porter 

Pepys,  I,  194,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

A  didactic  ballad  of  a  type  characteristic  of  Martin  Parker.  There  is  a 
sturdy  independence,  a  pride  in  honest  labour,  in  almost  everything  he 
wrote.  That  pride  may  also  explain  his  deep  veneration  for  the  nobility  and 
the  throne.  The  present  ballad  in  praise  of  porters  should  be  compared 
with  Thomas  Brewer's  much  earher  production  (No.  2).  "The  Proverb 
says,  Need  makes  the  old  zvife  trot"  remarks  John  Taylor,  in  his  Certaine 
Travailes  of  an  Uncertain  Journey  (1653).  Many  instances  of  this  proverb 
far  older  than  1653  are  given  in  Hazlitt's  Proverbs,  ist  ed.,  p.  288,  and 
still  older  are  the  extraordinarily  numerous  uses  of  the  proverb  to  which 
Professor  Kittredge  has  referred  me;  as,  "Besoing  fet  veille  troter,"  of  the 
thirteenth  century  (Haupt's  Zeitschrift,  xi,  1 1  5).  The  date  of  the  ballad 
is  about  1630.  The  tune  is  not  known  to  me. 

Cfje  fjonesit  plainc  bealing  porter : 
^^to  once  toas;  a  ricfj  man,  tjut  noto  tis;  fjiJf  lot, 
t!Co  proue  ttat  neeb  ttitU  maike  ti)e  olb  toife  trot. 

To  the  tune  of  the  Maids  A. B.C. 

1  '^/^Ou  who  haue  beene  rich  heretofore, 

X  and  by  ill  fates  are  now  grown  poore, 
In  that  estate  doe  not  despaire, 

but  patiently  your  crosses  beare : 
Though  you  haue  quite  consum'd  your  wealth, 

if  God  haue  lent  you  limbs  and  health, 
To  labour  daily  murmur  not, 

For  need  will  make  the  old  wife  trot, 

2  I  haue  had  wealth  as  others  haue, 

so  much,  I  needed  not  to  craue, 
Among  good  fellowes  some  I  spent, 
the  rest  to  cosening  knaues  I  lent: 



Now  all  is  gone,  and  nought  is  left, 
and  I  am  faine  to  make  hard  shift, 

Yet  am  contented  with  my  lot, 

Thus  need  will  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

3  Now  all  my  meanes  is  gone  and  spent, 

to  fare  hard  I  must  be  content. 
To  get  my  bread  my  browes  must  sweat, 

till  I  haue  earnd  I  must  not  eate. 
My  charge  I  must  take  care  to  keepe, 

which  makes  me  wake  when  others  sleepe, 
I  trudge  abroad  be  it  cold  or  hot, 

Thus  need  will  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

4  At  first  to  worke  I  was  asham'd, 

but  pouerty  hath  me  so  tam'd, 
That  now  I  thinke  it  no  disgrace, 

to  get  my  liuing  in  any  place, 
Tis  more  commendable  to  worke, 

then  idlely  at  home  to  lurke. 
Wishing  for  bread,  and  haue  it  not, 

Thus  need  will  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

5  Some  idle  knaues  about  this  towne 

doe  basely  loyter  vp  and  downe, 
And  ere  they'le  set  their  hands  to  worke, 

from  place  to  place  they'le  Hue  by  th  shirke, 
They'le  sit  i'th  Alehouse  all  the  day, 

and  drinke  and  eate,  yet  nothing  pay. 
I  scorne  to  drinke  of  anothers  pot, 

though  need  doe  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

6  Such  men  as  these  I  hold  in  scorne, 

He  rather  rise  at  foure  i'th  morne, 
And  labour  hard  til  nine  at  night, 

ere  I  in  shirking  take  delight: 
What  honestly  I  get  I  spend, 

and  well  accept  what  God  doth  send: 
No  man  shall  say  he  paid  my  shot, 

though  need  doth  make  the  old  wife  trot. 



7  My  calling's  honest,  good  and  iust, 

well  worthy  to  be  put  in  trust, 
I  am  a  Porter  my  habit  showes, 

my  trade  I  doe  not  care  who  knowes, 
I  am  a  man  that's  borne  to  beare, 

I  cary  burthens  farre  and  neere. 
By  which  an  honest  meanes  is  got, 

thus  need  doth  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

8  When  some  who  knew  me  rich  before, 

doe  shun  to  meet  me  now  I'me  poore, 
I  dare  to  looke  them  in  the  face, 

because  my  calling  is  not  base. 
For  of  all  men  we  Porters  be 

good  vnderstanding  men  you  see. 
Then  though  I  labour  blame  me  not, 

for  need  will  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

Wi)t  sieconb  part.  tEfjc  Same  ®une. 

9  OUch  pleasure  in  my  worke  I  find, 
O  that  I  Hue  more  content  in  mind, 
To  earne  my  liuing  with  my  hands, 

then  when  I  liued  vpon  my  lands. 
For  many  cares  are  incident 

to  wealthy  men,  when  sweet  content 
Doth  fall  vnto  the  meane  mans  lot, 

though  need  doth  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

lO   When  I  doe  meet  with  any  friend, 

I  seldome  want  a  penny  to  spend. 
Which  brings  me  to  a  good  report, 

because  I  Hue  in  honest  sort, 
Ide  rather  earne  my  liuing  deare, 

then  steale  or  beg  for  bread  or  beere, 
For  charity  is  cold  God  wot, 

when  need  doth  make  the  old  wife  trot. 



1 1  We  Porters  are  good  fellowes  still, 

and  spend  our  money  with  good  will, 
When  three  or  foure  on's  meet  together, 

we  needs  must  drinke  come  wind  come  wether, 
In  friendly  sort  our  pence  we  ioyne, 

or  more,  if  we  be  stor'd  with  coine, 
We  neuer  wrangle  at  paying  the  shot, 

though  need  doth  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

12  When  I  all  day  haue  labour'd  hard, 

content  at  night  is  my  reward. 
When  I  come  home,  to  quit  my  paines, 

my  wife  me  kindly  entertaines. 
We  sup  with  such  as  God  hath  sent, 

though  nere  so  small  we  are  content. 
Come  weale,  come  woe,  we  grumble  not, 

For  need  will  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

1 3  Thus  haue  I  showne  you  my  estate, 

and  how  I  first  was  crost  by  fate. 
And  how  that  crosse  did  proue  a  blis, 

because  my  mind  contented  is. 
My  meanes  I  did  consume  in  wast, 

but  there's  no  helpe  for  what  is  past, 
I  little  dream'd  of  this  my  lot, 

but  need  will  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

14  By  this  I  free  my  selfe  of  blame, 

my  kindred  I  will  neuer  shame. 
Well  may  they  heare  that  I  am  poore, 

yet  not  to  beg  from  doore  to  doore. 
Let  him  who  hath  no  house  nor  land, 

some  honest  calling  take  in  hand. 
Whereby  a  liuing  may  be  got. 

For  need  will  make  the  old  wife  trot. 

15  If  thou  hast  learning,  strength,  or  wit, 

to  vse  it  lawfully  tis  fit, 



To  sharke  and  shift  from  place  to  place, 
doth  thee  and  all  thy  kin  disgrace. 

Tis  base  to  beg,  tis  worse  to  steale, 
then  if  thou  honestly  doe  deale. 

Be  not  ashamed  of  thy  lot, 

For  need  will  make  the  old  wife  trot. 



Printed  at  London  for  F.  Coules,  dwelling  at 
the  vpper  end  of  the  Old  Baily. 


369  AA 


A  looking-glass  for  corn-hoarders 

Pepys,  I,  148,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

I  have  found  no  trace  of  John  Russell,  of  St  Peter's  Chalfont,  in  histories 
of  Buckinghamshire.  It  is  worthy  of  note,  however,  that  in  163 1,  when  a 
dearth  was  threatening,  Charles  Fitz-GefFrie  wrote  The  Curse  of  Corne- 
hoarders:  With  The  Blessing  of  seasonable  Selling.  In  three  Sermons,  on 
Pro\verbs\  11.  26.  Begun  at  the  general  Sessions  for  the  County  of  Cornwall, 
held  at  Bodmyn,  and  continued  at  Fowy  (British  Museum,  4455.  b.  13). 
Evidently  he  had  not  heard  of  Russell's  calamity,  for  he  mentions  only  the 
well-known  traditional  punishments  inflicted  upon  Archbishop  Walter 
Gray  and  Bishop  Hatto.  Ballad-writers  never  tired  of  writing  fearful 
warnings  against  "ingrossers"  of  corn,  many  of  whom  in  person  sank  into 
the  ground.  A  very  remarkable  example  of  such  a  punishment  occurs  in 
"A  true  balett  of  Dening,  a  poore  man,  and  a  lofFe  of  bred,  which  he  paid 
for,"  printed  as  No.  xlvii  in  H.  Boeddeker's  edition  of  the  ballads  from 
MS.  Cotton  Vespasian  A.  xxv  {fjahrbuch  fiir  romanische  und  englische 
Sprache  und  Literatur,  N.F.,  vols.  11  and  iii).  Russell  should  have  deemed 
himself  lucky,  for  he  escaped,  and  the  yavraing  earth  swallowed  only  one 
of  his  teams.  But  the  punishments  varied.  Thus  Goodman  Inglebred,  of 
Boughton,  Norfolk,  as  one  of  Anthony  a  Wood's  ballads  ("  A  Warning-peice 
for  Ingroosers  of  Come,"  ca.  1643)  tells  us,  suffered  from  a  tornado,  which 
the  Devil  sent  suddenly  and  which  "tore  the  Barne  in  pieces,  and  scattered 
all  the  Come,"  doing  such  damage  to  his  property  as  "the  like  was  never 
heard  of  before."  Many  other  engrossers  hanged  themselves  "on  the  ex- 
pectation of  plenty,"  as  the  Porter  in  Macbeth  remarks. 



<a  Hooking  glasisie  for  Cornefjoortierj;, 
iBp  tfje  example  of  lohn  Russell  a  Jfarmer  btoeUing 
at  ^t  peters;  Ctas^siant  in  Puckingtam  sif)ire,  b)tiosie 
gorges;  fiunfee  into  tlje  grounb  tfie  4  of  iHarcf)  1631. 

To  the  tune  of  Welladay. 

1  /^^F  wonders  strange  that  was 
V^  euer  heard,  euer  heard, 
The  like  ne'r  came  to  passe 

of  this  that  followes. 
Let  no  man  this  truth  doubt, 

but  rather  search  it  out: 
For  tis  spred  farre  about 

in  euery  place. 

2  This  woefull  chance  befell 

welladay,  welladay, 
Which  I  with  griefe  doe  tell, 

Lord,  haue  thou  pitty. 
Since  mens  hearts  are  so  hard, 

that  poore  from  bread  are  bard, 
And  diuers  almost  staru'd 

in  this  our  Land. 

3  In  Buckingham  Shire  this 

Accident,  Accident, 
Fell  out  at  a  place  nam'd 

Saint  Peters  Chassant. 
This  thing  though  strage,  'tis^  true, 

I  doe  assure  all  you 
That  doe  wrong,  wrack  and  scrue, 

the  needy  poore. 

4  The  poore  being  abus'd 

by  the  rich,  by  the  rich, 
And  by  them  cruelly  vs'd 
in  euery  Towne: 

371  AA2 


But  God  that  heares  their  moane, 
for  their  sakes  hath  this  showne, 

That's  already  noysd  and  blowne 
ouer  the  Land. 

5  A  Farmer  there  did  dwell, 

rich  he  was,  rich  he  was, 
Who  had  much  Corne  to  sell, 

and  store  of  graine: 
lohn  Russell  was  he  nam'd, 

whose  base  fact  hath  him  sham'd. 
Because  it  is  proclaim'd 

to  his  disgrace. 

6  A  poore  man  wanting  graine,^ 

came  to  him,  came  to  him. 
Requesting  to  obtaine 

some  of  his  store. 
The  Farmer  yeeldes  thereto, 

seeming  willing  to  doe 
This  for  the  poore  man,  so 

he  might  be  payd. 

7  The  Farmer  toke  his  price 

of  his  Corne,  of  his  Corne, 
The  poore  man  was  not  nice 

but  yeelded  to  it : 
He  bid  him  repaire  home, 

and  bring  with  him  that  summe 
That  they  concluded  on, 

and  he  should  haue  't. 

8  The  poore  man  came  and  brought 

to  the  house,  to  the  house. 
Of  the  Farmer,  and  sought 

him,  to  fulfill 
His  former  promise  made. 

When  he  these  words  had  said. 
His  mony  downe  he  paid 

vnto  the  Farmer. 

^  Text  has  a  period. 




Cte  siecontr  part.  tKo  tfje  Same  tune. 

9    ^  I  "He  poore  ma  left  his  Sack 

X    with  his  quoine,  with  his  quoine, 
Thinking  to  returne  back 

to  him  againe, 
And  for  to  fetch  from  thence 

that  Corne,  which  he  long  since 
Had  giuen  recompence 
vnto  the  full. 

10  But  afterwards  he  came 

to  demand,  to  demand, 
That  Corne,  yea  that  very  same 

that  he  had  bought, 
The  Farmers  humour  was  such 

that  he  did  grumble  much. 
Nor  would  he  at  all  keepe  touch 

with  this  poore  man. 

1 1  But  told  him,  Corne  did  rise 

euery  day,  euery  day, 
And  therefore  a  higher  price 
must  he  giue  him: 



Otherwise  he  should  not  haue 

one  Corne,  though's  life't  might  saue, 

At  which  his  speeches  braue 
the  poore  man  grieu'd.^ 

12  The  poore  man  he  went  farre 

to  his  friend,  to  his  friend, 
To  get  some  mony  more, 

to  buy  that  Corne. 
Which  when  he  had  procur'd, 

though  he  was  much  iniur'd 
He  quietly  indured, 

and  gaue  it  him: 

13  Who  found  him  labouring 

in  the  field,  in  the  field, 
And  hard  a  harrowing 

with  his  seruants. 
But  God  will  sure  requite 

all  those,  that  doe  delight 
To  affront  and  affright 

those  that  are  poore. 

14  The  ground  strait  opened  wide, 

into  which,  into  which 
Did  two  of  his  horses  slide: 

tis  strange  to  heare. 
They  did  sinke  downe  so  lowe, 

thar^  no  man  yet  can  know 
Whither  they  fell,  they  did  so 

strangely  vanish : 

15  The  rest  o'  th'  Teame  did  sinke 

presently,  presently. 
But  twas  good  helpe,  I  thinke, 
that  them  releas'd. 

^  Comma  in  the  text. 

2  I.e.  there.  Possibly  a  misprint  for  that. 



They  were  rays'd  vp  againe, 

suffring  but  little  paine. 
This  is  a  blot  and  staine 

to  all  our  Mizers. 

1 6    Let  them  take  heed  how  they 

doe  oppresse,  doe  oppresse 
The  poore  that  God  obey, 

and  are  beloued. 
God  will  not  let  these  long 

alone,  that  doe  his  wrong. 
Though  ne'r  so  rich  and  strong 

that  are  oppressors. 


Printed  at  London  for  H.  Gosson. 



News  from  the  'Tower  Hill 

Pepys,  I,  266,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

E[dward]B[lackmore]  registered  "Peg  and  Kate" on  November  4, 1631 
(Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  263).  Parker  was  evidently  fond  of  this  "jest,"  to 
which  he  refers  in  his  "Good  Throw"  (No.  67).  But  it  is  not  edifying  or, 
for  that  matter,  moral,  though  Parker  undoubtedly  intended  it  to  be  a 
warning  to  young  roarers  to  shun  evil  women.  He  commends  his  hero  as 
a  model,  but  most  readers  would  be  inclined  to  feel  some  indignation  at 
the  scurvy  trick  that  insufferable  young  person  plays  on  the  two  London 
prostitutes.  As  a  picture  of  the  times  and  for  the  light  it  throws  on  M.P. 
himself,  the  ballad  is  not  without  some  interest.  What  appears  to  be  a 
reference  to  it  occurs  in  the  two  lines, — 

And  have  I  met  thee,  sweet  Kate? 
I  will  teach  thee  to  walk  so  late, — 

sung  by  Cuddy  Banks  in  Ford,  Dekker,  and  Rowley's  Witch  of  Edmonton 
(printed  1658),  iii,  i,  although  this  play  is  usually  regarded  as  having  been 
acted  circa  1621. 

The  music  for  The  North-Country  Lass  which  Chappell  printed,  with  a 
specific  reference  to  "News  from  the  Tower  Hill,"  in  Popular  Music,  11, 
457,  is  adapted  neither  to  the  measure  nor  to  the  stanza-form.  In  the  same 
measure  as  the  "News"  and  to  the  tune  of  The  North-Country  Lass  is  a 
ballad  of  "The  Turtle  Dove"  in  the  Roxburghe  Ballads,  11,  592. 

Mt\xst^  from  tlje  Cotoerfjill : 
^  gentle  toarning  to  Peg  anb  Kate^ 
Co  toalfee  no  more  aftroab  sJo  late. 

To  the  tune  of  the  North  countrey  Lasse. 

I      A  Pretty  iest  He  tell, 

-l\.  which  was  perform 'd  of  late, 
Let  Lasses  all  in  generall, 
be  warned  by  Peg  and  Kate. 




2  These  Lasses  both  doe  dwell, 

neere  Algate  at  this  day, 
A  vse  they  had  ith  night  to  gad, 
abroad  as  I  heard  say. 

3  To  meete  with  some  young  men 

on  them  to  shew  affection, 
Which  vse  they  still  on  Tower-hill 
did  keepe  by  due  direction. 

4  But  now  giue  heede  a  while, 

and  marke  how  they  were  serued 
Would  all  were  so  that  thus  doe  goe, 
then  men  might  be  preserued^ 

5  From  these  deluding  bayts, 

which  by  the  way  doe  catch  them.^ 
Let  all  young  men  be  carefull  then, 
and  marke  how  one  did  match  them. 

6  As  they  walkt  forth  one  night, 

as  twas  their  custome  still, 
A  youngman  kind  did  chance  to  finde 
them  vpon  Tower-hill. 

7  And  finding  them  so  free, 

and  easie  to  goe  downe. 
He  got  them  both  they  were  not  loth 
with  him  to  Greenewich  Towne. 

8  A  payre  of  Oares  he  tooke, 

and  thither  went  in  hast, 
While  all  that  night  they  had  delight, 
but  marke  what  after  past. 

9  He  brought  them  vp  next  day, 

and  at  the  Posterne  gate. 

Into  the  Ship  they  all  did  skip, 

at  night  when  it  was  late. 

^  No  punctuation  in  the  text.  -  Text  has  a  period. 

377    . 


10  Where  they  to  supper  had 

all  dainties  they  could  wish, 
Young  Rabbets  fry'd  they  bade  prouide 
and  rost  Beefe  in  a  dish. 

1 1  And  Lambe  they  had  beside, 

with  Wine  and  Sugar  store. 
And  musicke  sweet  which  made  the  street 
to  muse  how  they  did  roare. 

12  At  last  the  reckoning  came 

to  two  and  twentie  shilling, 
The  Lad  was  wise  and  did  deuise 
to  make  them  pay  for  billing. 

®te  £feconlJ  part,  ^o  tfje  sfame  tune. 

1 3  OO  out  of  doores  he  stept, 
»3  and  made  a  fine  excuse, 

The  Lasses  still  their  Wine  did  fill 
as  twas  their  former  vse. 

14  But  when  they  long^  had  stayd, 

and  the  Lad  came  no  more, 
The  Vintner  came  of  them  to  clayme 
money  to  cleere  the  score. 

1 5  They  sayd  they  had  no  money, 

to  pay  for  what  was  drawne. 
Their  Aprons  they  vntill  next  day 
and  Ruffes  would  leaue  in  pawne. 

16  The  Vintner  would  haue  none, 

but  swore  he  would  be  payd 
Ere  they  did  passe,  or  else  alas 
in  prison  they  must  be  stayd. 

1 7  All  night  they  tarryed  there, 

ith  morning  Peg  did  send 
To  her  Mother  deare,  who  came  to  her 
as  did  become  a  friend. 
1  n  upside  down  in  text. 


1 8  Her  Husband  came  with  her, 

and  he  did  passe  his  word, 
At  a  certaine  day  the  shot  to  pay 
which  they  that  night  had  scor'd. 

19  And  so  they  were  dismist, 

well  serued  I  protest: 
If  all  base  whores  might  pay  such  scores 
then  men  might  passe  in  rest. 

20  The  youngman  I  commend, 

and  wish  that  others  would 

Him  imitate,  then  Peg  and  Kate 

would  be  no  more  so  bold. 

21  It  is  a  great  abuse, 

in  London  at  this  day. 
Now  in  the  street  many  nightly  meet 
such  wenches  on  the  way. 

22  Which  causeth  many  a  Man, 

that  would  goe  home  in  quiet, 
Upon  such  queans  to  spend  his  meanes, 
in  filthinesse  and  ryot. 



London  Printed  for  E.B. 



A  good  throw  for  three  maidenheads 

Pepys,  I,  314,  B.L.,  one  woodcut  (which  is  reproduced  in  the  Rox- 
burghe  Ballads,  viii,  641),  four  columns. 

Granted  the  situation,  Parker's  ballad  proceeds  without  offence.  From 
the  fourth  line  it  is  evident  that  this  song  was  written  to  outjest  the  similar 
ballad  of  "Peg  and  Kate,"  or  "News  from  the  Tower  Hill"  (No.  66). 
Accordingly,  the  date  of  "A  Good  Throw"  can  be  established  as  after 
November  4,  163 1,  at  which  time  "Peg  and  Kate"  was  licensed.  The 
ballad  of  "Over  and  Under,"  after  which  the  tune  was  named  (the  music 
is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  190),  had  been  licensed  on  June 
13,  163 1  {ibid.  p.  254).  The  dicing  terms  used  by  Parker  are  explained 
in  the  Glossary. 

^  goob  tijroto  lor  tfjree  iHaiben=fjeabsf. 

^ome  gap  tljat  maj>tjen=t)eatis;  arc  of  ijigfj  price, 
Put  tiere  are  tfjree  maibg  tijat  fjaue  logt  ttieirj;  at  bice. 

To  the  Tune,  Of  Ouer  and  Vnder. 

I    '  I  ^Hree  maides  did  make  a  meeting, 
J-    With  one  young  man  of  late,  | 
Where  they  had  such  a  greeting, 
As  passes  Peg  and  Kate. 
They  talke  of  many  matters. 
Not  fitting  to  be  told  : 
Also  they  dranke  strong  waters, 
To  heat  their  stomacks  cold. 

and  when  they  had, 

drunke  with  the  Lad, 
Vntill  they  were  merry  all  : 

betweene  them  three, 

they  did  agree. 
Into  discourse  to  fall. 



2  Concerning  husbands  getting, 
The  question  did  arise, 

And  each  of  them  their  sitting, 
Some  reason  did  deuise. 
One  was  a  milkemaid  bonny, 
The  other  He  not  name. 
And  shee  did  get  much  mony, 
By  selHng  of  the  same, 

her  name  is  lone^ 

as  is  well  knowne, 
I  hope  tis  no  offence: 

to  tell  what  they, 

did  on  that  day. 
Before  they  went  from  thence. 

3  They  all  did  loue  this  young  man 
And  each  for  him  did  striue. 

It  seemes  he  was  a  strong  man. 
That  could  his  worke  contriue. 
Now  which  of  them  should  haue  him, 
They  neither  of  them  knew. 
But  each  of  them  did  craue  him, 
As  her  owne  proper  due. 

now  meeting, 

and  greeting, 
As  maids  and  young  men  vse, 

with  them  he  dranke, 

his  money  was  franke, 
Indeed  hee  could  not  chuse. 

And  either  of  them  telling, 
Her  mind  in  full  to  him, 
Meane  while  the  rest  were  filling, 
Their  cupps  vp  to  yee  brim. 
Because  in  either  of  them. 
It  seemes  he  had  a  share, 



Unlesse  he  meant  to  scoffe  them, 
He  now  must  choose  his  ware. 

and  therefore  they, 

without  delay, 
Being  on  the  merry  pinne: 

with  good  aduice, 

did  throw  the  dice. 
Who  should  the  young  man  win. 

5  The  young  man  was  contented, 
And  so  the  dice  were  brought. 
The  maids  that  this  inuented. 
Their  lessons  were  well  taught: 
For  the  youngman  all  lusted. 
And  by  this  fine  deuice. 
They  seuerally  all  trusted. 

To  win  him  by  the  dice. 

but  harke  now, 

and  marke  now. 
The  manner  of  their  play: 

in  their  behalfe, 

I  know  youle  laugh. 
Before  you  goe  away. 

CfjE  geconb  part,  Co  tfjc  sfame  tune. 

6  T  F  any  of  the  lasses, 

A  Doe  ouerthrow  the  rest. 
On  her  the  verdict  passes, 
None  should  with  her  contest. 
But  she  should  haue  her  louer, 
Cleane  from  the  other  twaine. 
If  euen  not  aboue  her. 
Then  they  must  throw  againe. 

but  if  hee, 

all  them  three. 
Did  win  by  throwing  most: 

their  mayden-heads  all, 

to  him  must  fall. 
Without  any  paine  or  cost. 



7  To  this  they  all  replied, 
They  ioyntly  were  agreed, 
What  words  had  testified. 
Should  be  perform'd  indeed. 

The  first  maid  threw,  tray  cater  ace, 
Which  is  in  all  but  eight. 
She  hop'd  from  all  the  maids  in  place, 
To  win  the  lad  by  right. 

The  second  I  thinke, 

threw  tray  dewce  cinque, 
There's  ten  (quoth  she)  for  me.^ 

the  first  was  quell'd, 

for  this  excel'd, 
Full  sorely  vext  was  she. 

8  The  third  with  courage  lusty, 
Did  take  the  dice  in  hand. 
Now  dice  if  you  be  trusty. 
Quoth  she,  this  cast  shall  stand, 
For  I  resolue  for  better  for  worse 
As  fortune  shall  dispose, 

That  either  now  ile  win  the  horse 
Or  else  the  Saddle  lose. 

she  tooke  them, 

and  she  shooke  them. 
And  threw  without  feare  or  wit, 

tray  cater  sice, 

gramercy  dice. 
Quoth  she,  for  that  is  it. 

9  She  thought  herselfe  most  certain 
The  young  man  now  to  haue, 
But  false  deluding  fortune. 

No  such  great  fauour  gaue. 

The  young  man  tooke  the  dice  vp,- 

Quoth  he  now  haue  at  all, 

^  No  period  in  the  text.  2  ]sJq  comma  in  the  text. 


He  threw  sincke  cater  sice  vp, 
Which  made  her  courage  fall, 

who  threw  the  last, 

for  'twas^  surpast, 
How  now  my  girles,  quoth  hee, 

You  must  resigne, 

for  they  are  mine. 
Your  maiden-heads  to  me. 

10  For  I  haue  fairely  wonne  them. 
As  you  your  selues  can  tell, 
The  lots  were  cast  vpon  them, 
Which  you  all  liked  well. 
The  maydens  all  confessed, 
That  what  he  said  was  true, 
And  that  they  were  distressed, 
Should  he  exact  his  due. 

we  hope  sir, 

some  scope  sir. 
You  vnto  vs  will  giue. 

if  that  we  pay, 

whats  lost  by  play, 
Twere  pitty  we  should  Hue. 

1 1  Quoth  he,  He  haue  them  all  three. 
For  they  by  right  are  mine, 

Or  else  in  troth,  they  shall  bee. 

All  painted  on  my  signe. 

The  signe  of  the  one  maiden-head, 

Hath  oftentimes  bin  seene, 

But  ile  haue  three  caus  't  shall  be  sed 

The  like  hath  neuer  beene. 

now  whether  this  lad, 

his  winnings  had, 
I  cannot  nor  will  not  say:  j 

but  likely  tis,  M 

he  would  not  mis,  " 

What  was  won  by  faire  play. 
^  Texi  t'was. 



12    They  thought  they  had  bin  priuat 
Where  none  had  hard  their  doing 
But  one  did  so  contriue  it, 
That  he  heard  all  this  woeing. 
Thought  he  I  haue  heard  many  hold, 
Their  maiden-heads  at  high  price, 
But  now  hereafter  it  may  be  told, 
How  three  were  wonne  at  dice. 

this  man  ere  long, 

did  cause  this  song, 
To  be  made  on  the  same, 

that  maidens  faire, 

might  haue  a  care, 
And^play  at  no  such  game. 



London,  Printed  for  /.  Grissmond. 


R.P.G.  TSC  BB 


A  wonder  beyond  expectation 

Pepys,  I,  74,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  five  columns. 

The  "Wonder,"  which  was  registered  for  publication  on  January  2, 
1632  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  268),  is  summarized  from  a  thirty-five  page 
pamphlet  that  was  "Printed  by  R.Y.  for  John  Partridge"  in  1631  under 
the  title  oi  Gods  Power  and  Providence:  Skewed,  In  The  Miracv-lous  Pre- 
servation and  Deliverance  of  eight  Englishmen,  left  by  mischance  in  Green- 
land Anno  1630.  nine  monetks  and  twelve  dayes Faithfully  reported  by 

Edward  Pellham,  one  of  the  eight  men  aforesaid.  As  also  with  a  Map  of 
Green-Land  (British  Museum,  C.  59.  g.  17).  The  pamphlet  was  also  sum- 
marized in  163 1  by  John  Rous  in  his  Diary  (ed.  Camden  Society,  pp. 
63—65),  and  is  reprinted  in  Churchill's  Voyages,  volume  11. 

In  his  preface  Pellham  says:  "If  the  first  in  inhabiting  of  a  Countrey  by 
a  Princes  Subiects  (which  is  the  King  of  Spaines  best  title  to  his  Indyes) 
doth  take  possession  of  it  for  their  Soveraigne:  Then  is  Green-land  by  a 
second  right  taken  livery  and  Seisin  of,  for  his  Majesties  use;  his  Subiects 
being  the  first  that  ever  did  (and  I  beleeve  the  last  that  ever  will)  inhabite 
there."  He  declares  that  his  experience  was  in  every  particular  more  re- 
markable than  that  of  "the  Dutch-mens  hard  Winter  in  nova  Zembla''''  in 
I  596.  Coming  to  his  story,  Pellham  tells  how  he  and  his  companions  left 
London  on  May  i,  1630,  in  the  ship  The  Salutation  of  London  in  the 
service  of  the  Worshipful  Company  of  Muscovie  Merchants.  Arriving  at 
Greenland  on  June  11,  the  eight  men  were  sent  ashore  to  kill  venison. 
They  killed  fourteen  deer,  but  during  their  absence  the  winds  and  ice- 
drifts  drove  the  Salutation  away.  As  another  English  boat  was  known  to 
be  operating  at  Green  Harbour,  the  eight  men,  loaded  down  with  venison, 
set  out  for  that  place  but  arrived  after  the  ship  had  sailed.  Making  the 
best  of  the  matter,  they  settled  down  to  a  life  that  is  described  almost  in 
Robinson  Crusoe  style.  On  May  25,  1631,  two  ships  from  Hull  came  to 
their  port,  and  were  followed  three  days  later  by  the  London  fleet.  At  the 
end  of  the  hunting  season,  on  August  20,  the  rescued  men  and  the  fleet 
sailed  for  London. 

The  tune  is  named  from  a  ballad  called  "The  wonderful  example  of 
God  shewed  upon  Jasper  Coningham,  a  Gentleman  born  in  Scotland, 
who  was  of  oppinion  that  there  was  neither  God,  nor  Divell,  Heaven  nor 
Hell.  To  the  Tune  of  O  neighbour  Robert''''  Ifloxburghe  Ballads,  111,  104). 
In  MS.  Rawlinson  Poet.   185,  fol.  21,  is  preserved  "A  Pleasant  new 



Sounge  called  The  Carmen's  Whistle.  To  the  Tune  of  O  Neighbor  Roberte'''' 
(cf.  ibid,  vii,  xiv).  Accordingly,  it  is  evident  that  O  neighbour  Robert  and 
The  Carmen  s  Whistle  were  identical.  The  music  for  the  latter  tune  is 
given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  137. 

^  tDonber  tieponb  mans;  expectation, 
3n  tfje  presieruation  of  eigtt  men  in  Greenland  from 
one  Seasion  to  another,  tfie  lifee  neuer  fenotone  or  Ijearb 
of  before,  tufjicf)  eigfjt  men  are  come  all  siafelp  from 
ttence  in  tfjis!  last  Jf  leet,  1631 .  toJjoge  names;  are  tfjejfe, 
WilliamFakely  (gunner,  Edward  Peilham,  (gunners; 
iHate,  lohn  Wise,  Robert  Goodfellow  teamen, 
Thomas  Ayers  OTfjalecutter,  Henry  Rett  Cooper, 
lohn  Dawes,  Richard  Keliet  Hanbmen. 

To  the  tune  of  lasper  Coningham. 

TO  England  comes  strange  tidings, 
from  Greenland  of  eight  men, 
Who  there  had  their  abidings, 

till  season  came  agen : 
Beyond  mans  expectation, 

(as  you  shall  vnderstand) 
Was  their  strange  preseruation, 
within  that  barren  land. 

Where  nothing  for  mans  sustenance, 

most  part  o'th  yeare  doth  grow, 
No  Sun  at  all  on  them  did  glance, 

the  hils  are  hid  with  Snow: 
White  Beares  and  Foxes  monstrous, 

and  other  sauage  beasts, 
Within  that  Barren  wildernesse, 

vpon  each  other  feasts. 

387  BB: 


3  So  that  in  mans  coniecture, 

no  man  could  there  Hue  long, 
But  God  the  great  Protector, 

of  all  both  old  and  young. 
Did  shew  his  wondrous  power, 

in  helping  these  men  there. 
Whom  beasts  did  not  deuoure, 

nor  hunger  pinch  too  neare. 

4  These  men  abroad  there  wandred, 

to  hunt  for  Venson  there, 
Meane  while  the  royall  standard 

from  heauen  did  appeare, 
I  meane  the  Starre  so  constant, 

which  when  they  doe  perceiue, 
They  must  perforce  that  instant 

hoyst  Sayles  and  take  their  leaue. 

5  The  Captaine  he  commanding 

his  men  to  goe  abord, 
Alas  there  was  no  standing, 

the  time  would  not  afford, 
So  that  these  men  being  absent, 

were  left  behinde  on  shore 
Because  no  time  they  had  lent 

to  linger  any  more. 

6  But  when  these  men  returned, 

and  found  the  ship  was  gone, 
Alasse  their  hearts  then  burned, 

with  woe  they  were^  forlorne: 
In  pitious  wise  lamenting, 

their  hard  and  heauy  fate. 
At  last  they  all  consenting, 

(to  grieue  it  was  too  late.) 

^  Text  we. 


7  Then  one  man  best  experienc'd 

in  pollicy  and  cunning, 
The  rest  to  try  their  wits  incenc'd, 

quoth  he,  here  is  no  running: 
And  seeing  we  are  left  here 

in  this  vnfertile  place. 
Lets  doe  our  best  with  hearty  cheare, 

the  rest  leaue  to  Gods  grace. 

8  Then  with  this  resolution 

they  firmely  all  agreed. 
To  search  out  the  conclusion, 

and  try  how  they  could  speed: 
A  Caue  they  dig'd  i'th  ground  then, 

to  shrowd  them  from  the  cold, 
Wherein  they  liued  sound  men, 

most  wondrous  to  behold. 

9  Their  Venson  they  dry  baked, 

which  serued  them  for  bread. 
For  drinke  their  thirst  they  slaked 

with  Snow  water,  in  stead 
Of  English  Beere  and  French  Wine: 

to  warme  them  they  did  burne 
Three  hundred  Tunne  of  Casks, 

which  stood  there  for  their  turne. 

lo    The  flesh  of  Beares  they  boyled, 

in  stead  of  powdered  Beefe, 
Their  Hues  had  all  been  spoyled, 

but  for  this  course  reliefe. 
In  oyle  which  they  had  left  there, 

with  shirts  and  other  clothes,^ 
They  made  lamps  to  burn  most  cleer, 

beleeue  it  on  their  oathes. 

^  Text  has  a  period . 


1 1  And  when  their  food  was  neare  spent 

and  fearing  they  should  want 
Vittaile  for  the  remaining  time, 

they  did  begin  to  scant 
Themselues  and  feed  but  once  a  day, 

thus  spare  they  did  their  meate, 
And  fasting  dayes  they  did  obserue, 

on  which  they  naught  did  eate. 

12  In  this  their  extremity, 

when  they  did  famine  feare. 
They  spide  to  Sea  horses 

that  vnto  them  were  neare, 
And  kild  them  as  they  a  sleepe 

on  th'  Ice  were  set  to  rest, 
Which  fishes  much  comfort  gaue 

these  men  so  sore  opprest. 

Cte  sieconb  part  ^o  t^e  s(ame  tune. 

13  T  /"V  7Hen  much  danger  by  these  men 

V     V    they  had  past  o're,  much  harme 
They  did  receiue  for  want  for  clothes, 

wherewith  to  keepe  them  warme, 
For  by  time,  and  their  toyling 

their  clothes  were  worne  bare. 
And  torne,  that  they  could  not 

keepe  out  the  piercing  ayre. 

14  But  misery  that  makes  men 

industrious,  was  so  kinde. 
To  furnish  them  with  a  tricke 

to  keepe  them  from  the  winde: 
Their  needle  of  Whales  bone, 

vntwisted  Ropes  their  thred. 
They  sow'd  their  clothes,  &  handsomly 

their  bodies  couered. 



1 5  Foure  of  them  watched  duly, 

whilst  th'  other  foure  did  sleepe, 
Thus  constantly  and  truly 

their  houres  they  did  keepe, 
Els  't  had  beene  impossible, 

they  should  themselues  sustaine. 
Thus  they  were  neuer  idle, 

but  still  were  taking  paine. 

1 6  The  Sabbath  day  they  obserued, 

and  spent  it  piously. 
Yet  not  as  they  desired, 

nor  yet  so  zealously 
As  they  would  haue  been  willing 

that  holy  day  to  keepe. 
Because  they  had  not  any  booke 

to  keepe  their  eyes  from  sleepe. 

1 7  Thus  in  that  strange  fashion, 

they  liued  in  that  place, 
Till  the  ships  of  our  English  Nation, 

keeping  their  wonted  space. 
Did  come  againe  and  view  them, 

clad  with  the  skinnes  of  Beares, 
The  Captaine  hardly  knew  them, 

his  heart  was  full  of  feares. 

1 8  But  when  he  truly  found  them, 

so  vnexpectedly, 
To  be  all  perfect  sound  men, 

he  praised  God  on  high: 
Who  had  so  well  preserued 

these  men  of  courage  bold. 
Whom  he  thought  to  be  starued 

with  hunger  and  with  cold. 

19  Now  hauing  past  these  dangers, 

they  are  come  safe  from  thence,'^ 

1  Text  thnce. 


And  all  both  friends  and  strangers, 

not  sparing  for  expence, 
Are  ioyfull  for  to  see  them, 

lauding  in  their  behalfe, 
That  God  which  did  free  them, 

and  brought  them  home  so  safe. 

20    So  long  they  there  had  tarried, 

vntill  two  of  their  wiues 
Were  in  their  absence  married, 

not  hoping  of  their  Hues. 
This  was  the  Lords  owne  doing, 

to  him  be  giuen  praise 
For  this  strange  wonder  shewing, 

admired  in  our  dayes. 

Printed  for  H.  Goison. 



//  is  had  jesting  with  a  halter 

Pepys,  I,  440,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns.  The  sheet  was 
wrinkled  in  the  press,  with  the  result  that  stanzas  i  and  2  were  blurred  in 
printing.  Blurs  and  typographical  errors  are  here  silently  corrected. 

The  ballad  was  registered  on  January  2,  1632  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv, 
268).  The  refrain  is  musical,  but  not  much  can  be  said  for  Mr  Guy's 
"merry  jest,"  which,  indeed,  though  it  enforces  an  obvious  moral,  is 
rather  stupid.  The  "jest,"  however,  Professor  Kittredge  notes,  is  hoary 
with  age,  and  he  has  been  kind  enough  to  give  me  these  references  to  stories 
that  illustrate  the  danger  of  playing  at  hanging:  E.  Meier,  Deutsche  Sagen 
aus  Schzvaben,  i,  43;  Kijhnau,  Schlesiscke  Sagen,  i,  559,  572,  592;  Eisel, 
Sagenbuck  des  Voigtlandes,  pp.  289-290;  Lincolnshire  Notes  and  Queries, 
I,  166;  Grimm  in  Haupt's  Zeitschrift,  vii,  477.  The  oldest  instance  of 
all,  he  says,  is  the  story  of  King  Vikarr  and  StarkaSr  in  the  Gautrekssaga. 

Guy  was  a  prolific  ballad-writer:  there  are  many  of  his  signed  pieces  in 
the  Roxburgke  Ballads  {e.g.  11,  105,  164;  in,  47).  It  can  hardly  be  doubted 
that  Robert  Guy  is  referred  to  in  the  first  and  third  of  the  following  entries 
in  John  Parton's  Some  Account  of  the  Hospital  and  Parish  of  St  Giles  in 
the  Fields,  Middlesex,  1822,  p.  303: 

1642. — P^i  and  given  to  Guy,  a  poore  fellow  i^ 

.     Geven  to  the  Ballet-singing  Cobler  i^ 

1657. — V^  the  collectors  for  a  shroude  for 

oulde  Guy,  the  poet  2/6 

Possibly  the  second  entry  also  refers  to  him.  It  is  melancholy  to  think  of 
a  popular  ballad-writer's  being  buried  at  the  expense,  complete  or  partial, 
of  the  parish! 

The  tune  is  named  from  the  refrain  of  "A  Choice  of  Inventions.  To 
the  tune  oi  Rock  the  Cradle,  Sweet  John''  {Roxburghe  Ballads,  i,  105). 
But  Rock  the  Cradle,  Szceet  John  and  the  tune  given  by  Chappell  {Popular 
Music,  I,  189)  as  the  equivalent  o^  Rock  the  Cradle,  John  (see  the  ballad 
in  Roxburghe  Ballads,  vii,  162)  are  evidently  different  tunes. 



St  ig  tab  Sesitms  toitlj  a  l^alter. 

^  iWerrj>  Sesit  to  pou  3l'le  mafec  appeare, 
^tat  fjappeneli  latelp  bnto  Honbon  neere, 
W\}tvtasi  gootifcUotoesi  toerc  togetfjer  brinfeing : 
(0ne  ot  tfjem  in  a  leering  manner  tfjinfeing 
^0  jicape  gi)ot=free,  tW  feUotu  toas;  in  tope, 
^ig  sljot  to  pap,  tjj»  jeasfting  trjitlj  a  l^ope : 
WW^  ieasitins  miofyt  fjaue  proueb  to  fjisf  paine, 
Put  fjee'le  be  abbis'b  Jjoto  be  jeagtsi  go  againe. 

To  the  tune  of  There  was  a  Ewe  had  three  Lambes. 

I    'T^Hree  louiall  sparkes  together, 
-L  merry  they  did  make, 
The  coldnesse  of  the  weather, 

made  them  their  Hquor  take: 
Their  coyne  they  freely  spent  it, 

and  quaft  it  merily. 
And  all  as  one  consented 

merry  for  to  bee: 
One  he  for  Tobacco  cal'd, 

another  cal'd  for  beere, 
Another  cal'd  what  haue  you  not 

some  faggots  bring  vs  heere: 
They  were  three  lusty  souldiers^ 

had  seru  d  in  France  and  Spatne^ 

Germany  and  Italy,  -fk 

and  were  come  home  againe^ 
One  in  Warres  had  lost  an  eye, 

another  shot  quite  through  the  thigh, 

the  third  in  Turkish  slauery, 

endured  had  much  -paine. 

1    These  were  no  Maunding  souldiers, 
maunding  vp  and  downe. 
With  knap-sakes  on  their  shoulders 
that  trudge  from  Towne  to  Towne, 



And  by  their  Roking  cunning 

poore  Ale-wiues  oft  deceiue: 
For  meate  and  drinke,  and  lodging, 

and  doe  their  charges  saue: 
These  were  no  such  they  would  keepe  tutch, 

&  pay  their  shot  though  ne'r  so  much, 
To  gaine  the  loue  of  poore  and  rich, 

their  fauour  still  to  haue. 
They  were  three  lusty  Souldiers,  ^c. 

3  Also  three  iouiall  Saylers, 

vnto  these  Soldiers  came. 
And  brought  with  them  two  Taylors, 

but  none  of  them  He  name: 
And  brought  with  them  a  fellow, 

a  Butcher  and  a  Baker, 
But  all  this  time  to  make  them  euen 

did  want  the  neat  shooe-maker: 
Quoth  one  of  them  I  haue  a  friend, 

and  he  dwells  here  fast  by, 
A  shooe-maker  lets  for  him  send 

he  is  good  company. 
They  were  three  lusty  Souldiers^  ^c. 

4  He  will  sing  and  be  merry, 

drinke  and  pay  his  share. 
We  wish  then  said  his  neighbors  all 

that  now  we  had  him  here: 
They  for  him  sent,  incontinent, 

he  came  and  gaue  them  good  content. 
And  was  so  full  of  merriment, 

he  pleas'd  them  all  were  there. 
They  were  three  lusty  Souldiers^  ^c, 

5  For  nothing  there  was  wanting 

that  might  giue  them  content. 
They  merry  were,  and  made  good  cheere 
and  liberally  they  spent, 



Still  calling  on  the  Tapster, 

of  Beere,  to  bring  the  best: 
Then  silent  be,  and  list  to  me, 

for  now  beginnes  the  lest. 
This  fellow  he,  most  louially, 

did  for  Tobacco  call: 
And  sayes  my  noble  louiall  blades 

a  health  vnto  you  all. 
They  were  three  lusty  Souldiers^ 

had  seru  d  in  France^  and  Spaine, 

Germany  and  Italy^ 

and  were  come  home^  &'c. 

Cfje  ^etonb  ^art  So  tfje  game  tune. 

6  "  I  "Hus  beeing  blith  together, 

J-    vnto  their  hearts  desire 
Sayes  he  here  is  cold  weather, 

lets  haue  a  better  fire, 
And  bring  vs  more  Tobacco, 

and  of  your  Beere  the  best. 
For  whilst  I  stay,  my  part  He  pay, 

and  be  a  louiall  guest. 
Hang  money  it  is  but  an  Asse, 

for  meanes  I  cannot  lacke, 
Then  fill  the  other  dozen  in, 

let  sorrow  and  care  goe  packe. 
They  were  three  lusty  Souldiers 

and  seru'd  in  France  and  Spaine^ 

Germany^  and  Italy^ 

and  were  come  home  againe^  ^c. 

7  So  calling  for  the  Tapster, 

to  know  what  was  to  pay, 
Sayes  he  I  haue  no  money, 

but  if  you  please  to  stay, 
And  drinke  the  tother  dozen 

whil'st^  the  Faggots  burne, 
1  Text  whls't. 


I  scorne  you  for  to  cozen 

but  presently  returne: 
And  money  bring:  then  may  I  sing, 

a  Flye,  a  figge  for  care, 
He  hast  away,  and  make  no  stay, 

but  come  and  pay  my  share. 
They  were  three  lusty  Souldiers^  ^c. 

8  So  presently  returning, 

they  all  were  in  good  hope. 
That  he  some  money  then  had  brought 

till  pulling  out  a  Rope, 
Which  he  had  in  his  breeches, 

on  termes  he  did  not  stand, 
But  askt  if  any  one  were  there 

would  buy  a  Carelesse-Band: 
A  neate  one  a  feate  one, 

that  was  both  strong  and  new, 
And  nere  was  worne,  I  dare  be  sworne, 

beleeue  me  it  is  true. 
They  were  three  lusty  Souldiers^  i^c, 

9  The  company  then  smiling 

for  to  be  leered  so, 
One  of  them  to  him  calling, 

the  price  of  it  to  know: 
Is  this  a  Carelesse-Band  sayes  he, 

I  must  commend  thy  wit: 
Then  presently,  I  meane  to  try 

how  it  thy  necke  will  fit: 
The  Rope  then,  he  tooke  then, 

of  trueth  as  I  heard  say, 
And  with  a  twitch  his  necke  did  stretch 

vntill  he  gasping  lay. 
They  were  three  lusty  Souldiers^  &'c. 

lo    But  when  he  did  recouer, 
and  to  his  sences  came, 



Saith  he  I  must  acknowledge 

that  I  was  much  too  blame, 
In  such  a  foolish  manner 

my  betters  so  to  leere: 
That  here  I  should  haue  breath'd  my  last 

it  put  me  in  a  feare: 
Your  gentle  fauours  crauing, 

and  briefely  to  be  plaine, 
It  shall  to  me  a  warning  bee, 

for  lesting  so  againe. 
They  were  three  lusty  Souldiers,  ^c. 

1 1    Thus  all  the  City  ouer, 

by  rumour  it  was  spread, 
E're  he  could  well  recouer 

that  surely  he  was  dead: 
And  that  for  trueth  of  certaine, 

he  like  a  wretched  Elfe, 
Had  by  some  dire  misfortune 

vntimely  hang'd  himselfe: 
This  song  therefore  it  written  was, 

to  cleare  all  doubts  of  it, 
That  all  may  know,  it  is  not  so, 

he  is  not  dead  as  yet : 
But  hopes  to  Hue,  content  to  giue, 

and  so  continue  by  care  to  thriue, 
Ne'r  in  that  perill  for  to  come 

of  such  a  hanging  fit. 
They  were  three  lusty  Souldiers,  ^c. 


By  Robert  Guy. 

London  Printed  for  F.C. 


News  from  Holland'^ s  Leaguer 

Pepys,  I,  98,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  five  columns. 

Holland's  Leaguer  was  a  notorious  brothel  kspt  by  a  Mrs  Holland^  on 
the  Bankside,  Southwark.  It  is  described  in  a  quarto  pamphlet  called 
Hollands  Leagver:  OR,  An  Historical  Discourse  Of  The  Life  and  Actions 
of  Dona  Brit-tanica  Hollandia  the  Arch-Mistris  of  the  wicked  women  of 
Evtopia,  1632  (Bodleian,  Malone  227).  Of  this  establishment  J.  W. 
Ebsworth  {Bagford  Ballads,  i,  507*)  remarks: 

In  genera],  the  houses  of  ill-fame,  attacked  by  the  apprentices  on  Shrove- 
Tuesdays,  were  scarcely  different  from  ordinary  dwellings,  and  perhaps  private 
spite  often  dictated  the  selection  more  than  just  cause  of  offence.  But  Holland's 
Leaguer  was  exceptional,  and  claimed  to  be  an  island  out  of  the  ordinary  juris- 
diction. The  portcullis,  drawbridge,  moat,  and  wicket  for  espial,  as  well  as  an 
armed  bully  or  Pandar  to  quell  disagreeable  intruders,  if  by  chance  they  got 
admittance  without  responsible  introduction,  all  point  to  an  organized  system. 
There  were  also  the  garden-walks,  for  sauntering  and  "doing  a  spell  of  embroid- 
ery, or  fine  work,"  i.e.  flirtation;  the  summer-house  that  was  proverbially 
famous  or  infamous  for  intrigues,  and  the  river  conveniently  near  for  disposal 
of  awkward  visitors  who  might  have  met  with  misadventure. 

Ebsworth  {ibid.  p.  508*)  has  reproduced  from  the  1632  pamphlet  the 
famous  woodcut  of  the  brothel. 

The  pamphlet  was  licensed  for  publication  on  January  20,  1632;  six 
days  later  Shackerley  Marmion's  comedy  oi Holland's  Leaguer  was  licensed. 
Laurence  Price's  ballad  followed  on  May  24  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  278), 
and  deals  with  the  same  subject:  it  is  simply  a  poetical  paraphrase  of  the 
tract  of  January  20,  although  Ebsworth  states  positively  {Roxburghe  Ballads, 
VIII,  564)  that  it  "is  historical,  on  the  Dutch  alliance,  and  has  nothing  to 
do  with  the  moated  grange  bearing  the  same  name,  on  the  Bankside  in 

For  the  tune  see  the  introduction  to  No.  33. 

1  She  was  twice  summoned  before  the  Court  of  High  Commission  in 
1 63 1  (on  January  26  and  February  9),  but  failed  to  appear.  She  is  called 
"Elizabeth  Holland  a  woman  of  ill  reporte,"  and  mention  is  made  of  a 
husband.  See  S.  R.  Gardiner's  Reports  of  Cases  in  the  Courts  of  Star  Chamber 
and  High  Commission  (Camden  Society),  pp.  263,  268. 



Vetoes;  from  Hollands  Heager : 
Hollands  Heager  isi  lately  up  brofeen, 
tEtisf  for  a  certaine  is!  sipofeen. 

To  the  tune  of,  Canons  are  roaring. 

YOu  that  desire  newes, 
list  to  my  story; 
Some  it  will  make  to  muse, 

some  will  be  sorry, 
Some  will  reioyce  thereat, 

others  will  wonder. 
To  see  the  barke  and  tree 
Darted  asunder. 


This  of  a  certaine 
for  truth  it  is  spoken., 

That  Hollands  Leager, 
up  lately  is  broken. 



2  Such  Ensignes  were  displaid 

to  amaze  Holland^ 
The  like  hath  seldome  been, 

1  thinke  in  no  land. 
From  many  parts  there  hath 

gallants  resorted; 
Because  the  fame  thereof 

they  heard  reported: 
Yet  some  their  labour  lost, 

for  it  is  spoken, 
That  Hollands^  ^c. 

3  The  flaunting  Spaniard^ 

and  boone  Cauillera, 
The  bragging  Dutchman 

thought  cost  him  deare  a: 
Wallouns  and  Switzer^ 

both  lewes^  Turke  and  Neager^ 
Scots,  Danes  and  French, 

haue  been  at  Hollands  Leager, 
Yet  all  would  ^  not  auaile, 

for  it  is  spoken, 
That  Hollands,  ^c. 

4  Though  many  sought  to 

inuade  the  strong  Hand, 
And  stratagems  deuised 

by  sea  and  by  land, 
Rumors  were  spred  abroad, 

fames  Trumpet  sounding, 
Their  Sconce  so  firmely  stood, 

they  fear'd  no  wounding: 
But  yet  for  all  their  pompe, 

thus  it  is  spoken, 
That  Hollands,  &'c. 

^  No  comma  in  the  text. 

2  Texi  won  Id. 

R.P.G.  401  CC 


5  The  great  god  lupiter 

did  well  affect  her: 
And  Mars  the  god  of  warre, 

did  so  protect  her, 
His  martiall  discipline 

made  her  so  valiant, 
She  durst  in  battell  ioyne 

with  any  Gallant: 
Yet  though  she  valour  had, 

thus  it  is  spoken, 
That  Hollands,  &c. 

6  Belloniaes  blustring  shot, 

they  neuer  feared, 
But  brauely  face  to  face, 

the  Champions  dared: 
She  seldome  tooke  the  foyle 

by  friend  or  stranger, 
Unlesse  a  backe  recoyle 

put  her  in  danger, 
But  yet  for  all  their  pomp, 

thus  it  is  spoken. 
That  Hollands,  &c. 

7  Blow  for  blow,  shot  for  shot 

still  they  returned. 
But  sliding  Cowards 

she  euer  disdained: 
If  any  younker 

the  Island  doe  venter. 
Without  admittance 

no  partie  could  enter. 
But  tho  they  were  so  stout 

thus  it  is  spoken, 
That  Hollands  Leager 

is  lately  up  broken. 

8    The  draw-bridge  being 
up  taken  they  durst  to, 



Stand  to  push  of  pike 

and  giue  a  thrust  too: 
Those  that  gaue  onset 

sometimes  got  th'  worst  ont, 
And  at  their  parting 

most  dearly  haue  curst  ont. 
But  howeuer  it  is  spoken 

that  Hollands  Leager 
Vp  lately  is  broken. 

tlTfje  sfcconb  part.  Co  tfje  sfame  tKunc. 

9    T3UIworkes  and  batteries 
-L)  and  other  fences 
Daily  manteined 

the  Hand  expences: 
Store  of  musition, 

and  all  things  at  pleasure, 
Fit  for  this  company 

gold  and  rich  treasure 
They  had  at  her  command 

yet  it  is,  ^c. 

10  Now  since  the  Leager  broke 

and  they  are  excluded 
The  chiefe  Commander 

by  fate  is  subdued, 
Those  that  did  them  assault 

thought  it  small  purchase. 
The  Lion  scornes  to  prey 

on  a  dead  carkas. 
This  we  heare  certainly 

by  many  spoken. 
That  Hollands,  &'c. 

1 1  All  those  that  vsed  to 

frequent  this  border 
Are  backe  retired  for 
there's  a  new  order: 

403  CC2 


That  none  shall  thither  come 

to  worke  a  violence, 
Great  and  small,  high  and  low, 

all  must  keepe  silence, 
For  it  is  by  many  spoken, 

that  Hollands^  ^c. 

12  Yet  youngsters^  arme  your  selues, 

here  comes  new  tidings 
Allthough  the  Campe  be  broke, 

for  their  abidings, 
They  haue  a  refuge  found, 

that  can  defend  them, 
Drummes,  pikes  and  musketers 

doth  there  attend  them 
Then  brauely  march  along^ 

gallants  in  clusters^ 
Arrive  at  Bewdly^ 

where  they  keep  their  musters. 

13  There  front  garded  is 

with  such  strong  forces 
Only  they  left  behind 

some  certaine  Horses, 
Yet  for  a  trifle 

they  will  not  be  daunted, 
When  once  their  Colors 

o'th'  wall  is  aduanced. 
Feare  to  march  away^ 

gallants  in  clusters, 
To  Bewdly  heigh,  where 

they  keep  their  musters. 

14  Now  if  my  newes  in 

this  song  may  content  you, 
Buy  it  and  try  it 

and  neuer  repent  you, 

^  Text  younster. 


For  your  recreation 

in  loue  I  haue  pend  it: 
Trusting  no  creature  I 

haue  here  offended, 
With  telling  of  the  newes 

which  I  heard  spoken, 
That  Hollands  Leager 

is  lately  up  broken. 



London,  printed  for  I.W. 



I'he  honest  age 

Pepys,  I,  156,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Henry  Gosson  and  his  partners  registered  "The  Honest  Age"  on  May 
24,  1632  (Arber's  Transcript^  iv,  278).  It  is  of  very  little  interest  apart 
from  the  fact  that  its  author,  Laurence  Price,  mentions — apparently  with 
approval — Robin  Conscience,  a  long  ballad-poem  among  the  most  pre- 
tentious and  popular  of  Parker's  works.  The  ballad,  then,  is  one  of  many 
proofs  (cf.  the  introduction  to  No.  78)  that  Price  and  Parker,  though 
great  rivals,  were  on  friendly  terms.  Robin  Conscience  was  first  registered  for 
publication  on  April  20,  1630  {ibid.  p.  233);  a  late  edition  of  it  (1683)  is 
reprinted  in  the  Harleian  Miscellany,  1808,  i,  48-54. 

For  the  tune  cf.  No.  41. 


tlTfiere  \%  fjonesitp  in  all  Crates ; 
^sf  tip  tijis!  Bittp  siijall  appeare, 
tKfjerefore  attenb  anb  giue  gooti  eare. 

To  the  tune  of  the  Golden  age. 

1  ^\/'Ou  Poets  that  write  of  the  ages  that's  past, 

Jl  I  pray  stay  your  hand  and  write  not  too  fast, 
He  write  of  an  age  that  for  euer  shall  last, 
Plaine  dealing  in  Country  and  City  is  plac't. 

O  this  is  an  honest  age^ 

This  is  a  -plaine  dealing  age. 

2  Some  people  at  these  strange  tidings  will  muse, 
And  some  will  be  ioyfull  to  heare  such  rare  newes, 
Then  list  to  my  Ditty  for  it  briefly  shewes, 

No  man  He  offend,  then  let  no  man  refuse. 
To  heare  of  this  honest  age., 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 



3  And  first  to  goe  forward  as  now  I  intend, 

I  heare  that  the  Broker  his  money  will  lend 
To  any  poore  Neighbour  his  estate  to  amend, 
How  well  is  that  man  that  hath  got  such  a  friend. 

O  this  is  an  honest  age^ 

This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 

4  The  Chandler  that  keepes  coles  and  fewel  to  sell, 
Doth  top  heape  his  measure  and  soundly  it  fill. 
For  Sope,  Starch,  and  Candle  he  wayeth  so  well. 
That  of  his  plaine  dealing  his  neighbors  can  tell. 

O  this  is  an  honest  age^ 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age, 

5  That  Taylor  doth  scorne  to  deceiue  any  friend, 
But  vnto  plaine  dealing  his  mind  he  doth  bend. 
If  once  he  were  false  he  hath  sworne  to  amend. 
No  more  cloth,  nor  silke,  lace,  to  hell  he  will  send. 

O  this  is  an  honest  age, 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 

6  The  Cookes  in  Pye-corner  deceit  will  not  vse, 
In  rosting  meat  three  times  their  trade  to  abuse, 
They'l  rather  both  custome  and  money  refuse. 
Than  vse  a  man  falsely  if  that  they  can  chuse. 

O  this  is  an  honest  age. 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 

7  The  Tapster  is  willing  to  giue  men  content. 
To  sell  them  full  measure  his  humour  is  bent 
If  a  man  score  a  dozen  he  will  not  repent. 

Nor  take  of  you  hate  for  the  beere  which  is  spent 
O  this  is  an  honest  age. 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 

8  I  heare  this  of  Bakers  in  sizing  of  bread, 

Tho  some  think  that  conscience  fr5  Bakers  is  fled 
Since  one  through  the  Pillery  put  forth  his  head, 
No  more  of  their  company  will  be  misled. 

O  this  is  an  honest  age, 

This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 



^\)e  £feconb  part.  Co  tfje  siame  tunc : 

9      ALso  the  Butcher  so  iouiall  and  bold, 

■-t\  Is  turn'd  a  plaine  dealer  as  you  may  behold, 
They'l  put  forth  no  tainted  meat  for  to  be  sold 
To  wrong  any  Neighbour  for  siluer  nor  gold, 

O  l/iis  is  an  honest  age, 

This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 

10  The  Miller  that  vsed  too  deepe  to  take  tole. 
Is  now  in  great  feare  to  endanger  his  soule, 
Of  late  Robin  Conscience  tooke  him  by  the  pole. 
And  charg'd  him  to  flye  those  offences  so  foule. 

O  this  is  an  honest  age. 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 

1 1  The  Brewer  that  made  his  beere  very  small, 
Hath  changed  his  hand  since  Malt  had  a  fall. 
And  by  this  meanes  gained  the  loue  of  them  all. 
The  rich  and  the  poore,  the  great  and  the  small. 

O  this  is  an  honest  age. 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 

12  And  the  neat  Shooemaker  who  merrily  sings, 
Whose  predecessors  were  heires  vnto  Kings, 
To  such  good  perfection  all  matters  he  brings. 
That  throughout  all  Europe  his  credit  rings, 

O  this  is  an  honest  age, 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 

1 3  The  Weauer,  the  Glouer,  the  Mason  also. 
The  Painter  that  makes  such  a  gorgious  show, 
The  Pewterer,  the  Plumer  with  other  trades  mo 
Will  vse  no  false  dealing  where  euer  they  goe. 

O  this  is  an  honest  age. 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 



14  The  Cooper,  the  Blacksmith  the  ancient  translater 
The  Copper-nos'd  tinker  w*  his  wife  y^  kind  creture 
And  yt  swaggering  Sowgelder  &  lack  y*  greater  eater 
Hath  sworne  to  his  wife  that  he  neuer  will  beat  her 

O  this  is  a  quiet  age^ 

This  is  a  plane  dealing  age. 

15  The  Spendthrift  that  vsed  in  Tauerns  to  rore, 
With  wine  and  Tobacco  and  sometimes  a  whore  ^, 
Say's  now  hee'l  Hue  honest  and  doe  so  no  more. 
If  he  haue  spare  money  hee'l  giue  it  to  the  poore, 

O  this  is  an  honest  age^ 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 

16  All  this  honest  company  which  I  haue  nam'd, 
I  trust  will  like  of  it  I  shall  not  be  blam'd, 
For  this  rare  new  Ditty  in  loue  I  haue  fram'd, 
I  know  no  plaine  dealing  man  will  be  asham'd, 

To  heare  of  this  honest  age^ 
This  is  a  plaine  dealing  age. 

17  Thus  here  you  see  honesty  flyes  vp  and  downe, 
through  Citty,  through  Country  through  Village  & 

Amongst  other  vertues  it  merits  renown, 
By  this  for  example  that  it  may  be  knowne, 

That  this  is  the  honest  age^ 

The  best  and  honestest  age. 


London,  Printed  for  H.G. 

^  Text  apparently  whoroe. 
2  No  period  in  the  text. 




Knavery  in  all  trades 

Pepys,  I,  1 66,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Francis  Grove  registered  this  ballad  on  July  i6,  \6'i,2{AxhtxhTranscript, 
IV,  281).  In  it  Martin  Parker  gives  a  mournful  account  of  the  evils  of  his 
time,  but  no  doubt  his  disgust  and  cynicism  w^ere  assumed  for  the  occasion. 
Probably  it  was  nothing  but  an  answer  to  Laurence  Price's  "Honest  Age" 
(No.  71).  In  the  second  stanza  of  part  two,  however,  there  are  some  bitter 
comments  on  persons  who  evade  paying  their  scores  in  taverns  and  inns 
which  may  have  been  due  to  Parker's  own  experience.  He  is  known  to 
have  been  an  ale-house  keeper,  and  one  of  his  lost  ballads,  licensed  on 
July  19,  1636,  had  the  significant  title  of  "Certaine  verses  of  Martin 
Parker  against  trusting  to  sett  vp  in  Alehouses." 

For  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  267. 

Unauerp  in  aU  Cralies:, 


^ere'si  an  age  tnoulti  make  a  man  mab. 

To  the  tune  of.  Ragged  and  torne  and  true. 

I      AS  I  was  walking  of  late, 
£\.  within  the  fields  so  faire, 
My  minde  to  recreate, 

well  nye  orecome  with  care: 
I  heard  two  men  discourse, 

as  I  along  did  walke, 
It  mou'd  mee  with  remorse, 

to  hearken  to  their  talke. 
Full  oftentimes  they  said, 

(to  heare  them  I  was  sad) 
All  honesty  is  decay  d^ 

here's  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad. 



The  one  to  the  other  did  say, 

what  course  shall  I  take  to  Hue, 
For  none  can  thriue  at  this  day, 

but  such  as  their  mindes  doe  giue: 
To  ouer-reach  and  deceiue, 

and  doing  of  others  wrong. 
All  they  that  such  courses  leaue, 

may  sing  the  Begger-Boyes  Song. 
A  man  can  scarce  thriue  by  his  trade 

mens  consciences  are  so  bad. 
All  honesty  is  decay  d^ 

here's  an  age  will  make  a  man  mad. 

Hee  that  is  rich  already, 

is  like  still  to  bee  so, 
And  he  that  is  poore  and  needy, 

his  burthen  must  vndergoe; 
Tis  a  Prouerb  vs'd  in  our  Towne, 

it  hath  beene  and  euer  will, 
That  if  a  man  be  once  downe, 

the  world  cryes  downe  with  him  still, 
How  shall  a  man  finde  a  trade, 

whereby  true  meanes  may  be  had, 
All  honesty  is  decay  d^ 

here's  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad. 

If  a  poore  man  be  wrong'd  by  a  rich, 

as  alas  we  dailv  see. 
Without  money  to  goe  through  stitch, 

in  a  pittifull  case  is  hee: 
He  were  better  to  pocket  the  wrong, 

than  himselfe  into  trouble  to  draw, 
For  vnlesse  his  pockets  be  strong, 

tis  but  folly  to  meddle  with  Law, 
This  makes  many  men  dismay'd, 

for  the  fee  makes  a  case  good  for  bad, 
All  honesty  is  decay  d, 

here's  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad. 



5  Betweene  the  Lawyer  and 

the  money-begetting  Mizer, 
Men  lose  both  house  and  land, 

and  afterwards  wish  they  had  bin  wiser: 
Although  we  haue  plenty  of  Graine, 

yet  the  rich  make  among  vs  a  dearth, 
Which  causeth  the  poore  to  complaine, 

as  though  little  grew  on  the  earth, 
Ingrossing  is  growne  such  a  trade, 

that  the  poore  haue  great  cause  to  be  sad, 
All  honesty  is  decay  d^ 

here' s  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad. 

6  One  tradesman  deceaueth  another, 

and  sellers  will  conycatch  buyers. 
For  gaine  one  wil  cheat  his  own  brother, 

the  world's  full  of  swearers  and  lyars: 
Men  now  make  no  conscience  of  oathes, 

and  this  I  may  boldly  say, 
Some  Rorers  doe  were  gallant  clothes, 

for  which  they  did  neuer  pay: 
The  rich  shall  a  Saint  be  made, 

though  his  life  be  neuer  so  bad. 
All  honesty  is  decay  d^ 

here" s  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad. 

Clje  sfeconb  part.  Co  tfje  jsiame  tune: 

7  ''  I  ^He  Taylor  can  neuer  Hue  well, 

J-     as  many  men  plainely  perceiues, 
Unlesse  he  haue  gaines  from  hell, 

or  Hues  vpon  Cabidge  leaues; 
O  is  't  not  a  pittifull  case, 

and  a  thing  which  few  men  beleeues  ? 
A  Taylor  that  will  Hue  in  grace, 

cuts  out  of  one  gowne  three  sleeues : 
Thus  they  must  vse  their  Trade, 

or  else  little  meanes  can  be  had. 
All  honesty  is  decay  d^ 

here^s  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad. 


8  The  Victualers,  Tapsters  and  Cookes, 

are  hindered  very  sore, 
With  many  sharking  Rookes, 

that  vse  to  encroch  on  their  skore: 
And  when  they  are  once  in  chalke, 

the  house  they  will  refraine, 
And  to  other  places  they'l  walke, 

but  neuer  come  there  againe. 
This  trusting  without  being  paid, 

breakes  many  an  honest  Lad, 
All  honesty  is  decay  d^ 

here' s  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad. 

9  Plaine  dealing  now  is  dead, 

and  truth  is  so  rare  to  finde, 
That  most  men  now  are  led, 

contrary  vnto  kinde: 
Where  one  man's  iust  and  sound, 

whose  words  and  deeds  agree, 
A  dozen  may  be  found, 

that  will  from  their  promise  flee. 
Such  knaues  makes  men  afraid, 

to  beleeue  a  true  hearted  Lad, 
For  honesty  is  decay  d^ 

here's  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad. 

lo    Such  horrible  abuse, 

is  practis'd  in  this  Nation, 
A  fashion  now  in  vse, 

next  month  is  out  of  fashion : 
Our  men  are  effeminate, 

which  all  their  manhood  disgraces. 
And  makes  our  foes  of  late, 

to  ieere  vs  to  our  faces, 
They  were  of  vs  afraid, 

when  English  hearts  wee  had. 
Our  honour  is  much  decay  d^ 

here' s  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad. 



1 1  A  man  I  may  rightly  say, 

may  be  mad  to  note  these  times, 
Since  Vertue  doth  decay, 

and  Vice  to  preferment  climes: 
Now  couetousnesse  and  pride, 

is  ore  the  Land  bespread, 
All  charities  laid  aside, 

and  conscience  is  quite  dead: 
The  Master  abuseth  his  Maid, 

which  makes  the  Mistris  sad. 
Thus  honesty  is  decay  d^ 

here's  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad, 

12  Some  men  that  haue  wiues  at  home, 

both  beautifull,  vertuous,  and  chaste. 
Abroad  amongst  whores  doe  rome, 

and  with  them  their  meanes  they  wast: 
While  the  wife  at  home  doth  stay, 

the  husband  in  Tauernes  doth  roare. 
She  thinkes  he  is  busie  all  the  day, 

indeed  so  he  is  with  his  whore: 
In  briefe  no  more  need  be  said, 

all  things  doe  appeare  too  bad. 
For  honesty  is  decay  d^ 

here's  an  age  would  make  a  man  mad. 



London,  Printed  for  F.  Groue. 



Gallants^  to  Bohemia 

Pepys,  I,  1 02,  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

This  musical  ballad,  dating  about  1632,  urges  England  to  participate 
in  the  conquests  and  spoils  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  in  Germany,  and 
laments  the  apparent  military  decadence  of  England  since  the  glorious 
days  of  Sir  John  Norris,  George,  Earl  of  Cumberland,  Thomas  Cavendish, 
Robert  Devereux,  Earl  of  Essex,  Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert,  Frobisher,  Lord 
Grey  de  Wilton,  and  Lord  Willoughby  de  Eresby.  The  writer's  chief 
regret  seems  to  be  for  the  gold  and  precious  stones  in  which,  on  account 
of  her  neutrality',  England  has  no  share;  though  he  professes,  also,  an 
eagerness  to  help  to  defeat  Popery.  The  ballad  is  valuable  evidence  of  the 
feelings  and  the  attitude  of  a  man  of  the  streets  towards  the  German  wars. 
Every  important  incident  of  the  Thirty  Years'  War  was,  as  soon  as  the 
news  reached  London,  at  once  put  into  ballads  for  circulation.  See,  for 
example,  Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  144,  268,  271,  274,  282,  299. 

The  "pleasant  warlike  tune"  can  be  identified,  thanks  to  a  badly  muti- 
lated ballad  in  the  Manchester  Collection  (i,  48)  of  "England's  Monthly 
Predictions"  to  the  tune  oi Let  us  to  the  Wars  Again;  or.  The  Maying  Time; 
for  the  music  of  Maying  Time  was  included  by  Chappell  in  his  Popular 
Music  (i,  377).  Another  ballad  in  the  same  collection  (i,  2),  "The  Great 
Turk's  Challenge,  this  Year  1640,"  is  to  be  sung  to  My  Heeding  heart  [a 
tune  often  referred  to],  or.  Lets  to  the  wars  again.  Martin  Parker's  own 
ballad  of  "News  from  Newcastle,"  1640  {ibid.  11,  i),  is  sung  to  Lets  to 
the  wars  again. 



#aUante,  to  Potemia. 

0t,  let  tjs;  to  tfjc  OTarreg  againe:  ^fjetoins  tfje 

fortoartinefiisie  of  our  Cngligfi  ^oulbiers;,  tiotfj  in 

times;  pagt,  anti  at  tf^isi  present. 

To  a  pleasant  new  Warlike  tune. 

I    "V/E  noble  Brittaines^  be  no  more 
X    possest  with  ease  vpon  the  shore: 
You  that  haue  beene  so  bold  and  stout, 

sit  not  musing,  but  looke  out: 
Kings  of  England  with  their  shields 

full  oft  haue  fought  in  martiall  fields, 
And  golden  prizes  did  obtaine: 
Then  let  vs  to  the  warres  againe. 

1    Ye  noble  Captaines  of  the  Land, 

and  Sea  men  of  such  braue  command : 
Bend  all  your  forces  to  the  Seas, 

and  take  on  Land  no  longer  ease : 
For  Drums  and  Trumpets  are  not  mute, 

to  call  you  forth  with  Fife  and  Flute, 
To  fleete  your  ships  vpon  the  maine. 

Then  let  vs  to  the  warres  againe. 

3  Now  Sea-men  Pylots  leaue  the  Land, 

Card  and  Compasse  take  in  hand : 
And  hye  againe  to  Neptune  Seas, 

where  we'l  haue  riches  when  we  please 
Our  Souldiers  they  are  men  of  might, 

and  will  for  gold  and  siluer  fight : 
Which  doth  vs  brauely  all  maintaine. 

Then  let  vs  to  the  warres  againe. 

4  France  and  Flanders  makes  no  mone, 

they  get  riches,  we  get  none, 
Flemish  Captaines  sayle  about, 
vnknowne  Islands  to  find  out: 



That  Indian  Pearles  and  lewells  store, 
may  decke  them  brauely  on  the  shore: 

Away  then  Gallants,  hence  amaine, 
And  let  vs  to  the  warres  againe. 

5  Some  seeke  in  forraigne  Lands  to  thriue, 

we  like  Bees  do  keepe  our  hiue: 
Some  get  riches,  Pearle  and  Gold, 

we  sitting  still  grow  faint  and  cold : 
Once  againe  let  it  be  said, 

we  forraigne  actions  neuer  fear'd. 
The  true  Religion  to  maintaine. 

Come  let  vs  to  the  warres  againe. 

6  In  faire  Bohemia  now  is  sprung, 

a  Seruice  which  we  lookt  for  long: 
Where  Souldiers  may  their  valour  trie, 

when  cowards  from  the  field  will  flye: 
It  neuer  shall  of  vs  be  said, 

that  English  Captaines  stood  afraide: 
Or  such  aduentures  would  refraine. 

Then  let  vs  to  the  warres  againe. 

7  Of  late  we  had  within  our  Land, 

a  noble  number  of  command: 
Of  gallant  Leaders  braue  and  bold, 

that  almost  all  the  world  controld : 
As  Essex,  Cumberland  and  Drake, 

which  made  both  Sea  &  Land  to  shake, 
The  Indian  siluer  to  obtaine. 

Then  let  vs  to  the  warres  againe. 

tEf)t  geconb  ^art.  ^o  tfje  game  tune. 

8  'npHe  Norrisses,  and  noble  Veeres, 

-L    and  Sidnies  famous  many  yeares : 
The  Willoughhy  and  worthy  Gray, 
that  serued  still  for  royall  pay: 


417  DD 


Made  England  famous  euery  where, 
to  such  as  did  their  fortunes  heare: 

Then  let  vs  not  at  home  remaine, 
But  Brauely  to  those  warres  againe. 

9    Gilbert^  Hawkins^  Forhtsher^ 

and  golden  Candish^  Englands  starrer 
With  many  a  Knight  of  noble  worth, 

that  compass'd  round  the  circled  earth: 
Haue  left  examples  here  behinde, 

the  like  aduentures  forth  to  finde: 
The  which  to  follow  and  maintaine, 

Come^  let  vs  to  those  warres  againe. 

10  Let  vs  no  more  sit  musing  then, 

but  shew  our  selues  true  Englishmen, 
Whose  fames  great  Mars  resounds  from  farre, 

to  be  the  onely  men  of  warre : 
The  bounds  of  Europe  cannot  yeeld, 

forth  better  Souldiers  for  the  field: 
Let  bullets  come  as  thicke  as  raine, 

Weel^  brauely  to  those  warres  againe. 

1 1  Bohemian  Drums  and  Trumpets  call, 

a  Summons  to  vs  Souldiers  all : 
Then  who  will  from  such  seruice  flye, 

when  Princes  beare  vs  company. 
To  armes,  to  armes  all  Europe  sings, 

the  cause  is  iust,  we  fight  for  Kings, 
The  which  most  brauely  to  maintaine, 

Come  let  vs  to  those  warres  againe. 

12  The  Germane  States,  and  Netherlands, 

haue  mustred  vp  their  martiall  bands: 
The  Denmarke  King  doth  close  combine, 
his  forces  to  the  Palatine: 

1  Text  IVe'el. 


With  three  hundred  Princes  more. 

'side  Dukes,  Earles  and  Barons  store: 
Then  how  can  we  at  home  remaine. 
But  brauely  to  those  warres  againe. 

13  The  Seas  with  ships  are  richly  spread, 

the  Land  with  colours  white  and  red 
And  euery  Captaine  ready  prest, 

to  rancke  his  squadrons  with  the  rest: 
The  Martiall  musickes  ratling  sound, 

sayes,  Soldiers,  stand  &  keep  your  ground 
Though  burning  bullets  flye  amaine, 

Tet  will  we  to  those  warres  againe, 

14  Our  Leaders  nobly  minded  are, 

for  to  maintaine  so  braue  a  warre 
As  this,  for  true  Religions  right, 

to  spend  their  Hues  in  bloudy  fight: 
For  God  and  for  his  Gospell,  then 

to  armes,  and  fight  it  out  like  men, 
The  which  most  brauely  to  maintaine, 

Let  vs  go  to  the  warres  againe. 

1 5  And  let  vs  all  that  Souldiers  be, 

both  noble  bloud  and  low  degree: 
Be  true  to  him  that  takes  in  hand 

these  popish  kingdomes  to  withstand: 
God  guide  him  on  with  good  successe, 

and  all  his  noble  army  blesse: 
And  so  we  shall  the  right  maintaine, 

And  go  vnto  these  warres  againe. 

Imprinted  at  London  by  G.E. 

419  ^°2 


Charles  Rickets^  recantation 

Pepys,  I,  172,  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

Perhaps  this  was  the  ballad  called  "Long  Runns  that  neere  turnes" 
which  was  licensed  to  John  Wright,  July  8,  1633  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv, 
299).  "He  runneth  far  that  never  turneth  again"  occurs  among  John 
Heywood's  Proverbs,  1562  {Works,  ed.  J.  S.  Farmer,  pp.  90,  182). 

Charles  Rickets  may  be  a  pseudonym  of  Charles  Records,  whose  name 
is  signed  to  a  number  of  ballads  of  this  type;  as,  "The  Goodfellow's 
Advice"  against  drink  and  other  vices  {Roxburghe  Ballads,  iii,  261;  cf. 
the  list  given  at  p.  681).  Possibly  Charles  was,  as  he  professes,  a  roaring 
Oxfordshire  trader;  but  certainly  the  exploits  for  which  he  grieves  seem 
tame  enough.  The  "crotchet"  which  he  played  on  a  tailor  by  spending 
his  shilling  hardly  seems  a  matter  for  mention,  much  less  for  excessive 

No  information  about  the  tune  is  available. 

Charles  Rickets  f)is!  recantation. 

Earning  all  goob  jf  ellotDEg  to  sitriue, 
Co  learne  tDitf)  tint  tfje  toap  to  tfjriue. 

To  the  Tune  of  his  lamentation,  or  He  beat  my  wife  no  more. 

I     T  T  E  runs  farre  that  ne'r  returneth, 
ITl  is  a  Prouerbe  still  in  vse: 
And  hee's  vnhappy  that  ne'r  mourneth, 
for  his  former  times  abuse. 

I  therefore, 

who  vs'd  to  rore, 
Where-euer  I  did  come  or  goe, 

do  now  repent, 

for  time  ill  spent. 
And  vow  He  neuer  more  doe  so. 




2  All  my  folly  now  He  banish, 

which  before  possest  my  minde: 
All  ill  husbandry  shall  vanish, 
for  I  now  begin  to  finde 
that  mine  owne  good 
I  haue  withstood. 
And  brought  my  substance  very  low, 
but  now  He  giue 
my  mind  to  thriue, 
Good  heauens  grant  I  may  doe  so. 

3  I  haue  vs'd  among  the  brauest, 

to  keepe  quarter  like  a  gallant, 
By  which  meanes  my  wealth  is  lauisht, 
for  with  the  best  I  spent  my  talent: 
when  to  a  Faire 
to  sell  my  ware. 
Or  Market,  I  did  vse  to  goe, 
there  was  but  few 
but  my  name  knew, 
I  vs'd  to  drinke  and  fuddle  so. 

4  Who  but  Charles  the  Lad  oi  Morton^ ^ 

was  denoted  farre  and  neere? 
But  now  alas  they  shall  come  short  on, 
that  which  late  I  did  appeare: 
for  now  I  meane 
to  abandon  cleane, 
Those  humors  which  in  me  did  flow, 
He  bridle  still 
my  headstrong  will. 
Good  heauens  grant  I  may  doe  so. 

5  Many  times  ith'  towne  of  Cambden^ 

where  my  businesse  sometimes  lay: 
Among  boone  Lads,  I  haue  been  hemb'd  in 
and  inforced  long  to  stay: 
both  day  and  night 
for  my  delight, 

^  I.e.  Moreton. 



I  tarri'd  still,  and  would  not  goe 

to  my  owne  home 

but  lou'd  to  rome 
Abroad,  but  He  no  more  doe  so. 

6  At  Easam'^a.ho,  and  at  S/iipson^, 

I  am  for  a  rorer  knowne, 
Where  many  times  mad  Charles  the  gipson 
hath  his  merry  humours  showne, 
the  stoutest  there 
for  wine  and  beere, 
Me  in  expence  could  not  outgoe, 
for  all  the  day 
I'de  call  and  pay: 
But  now  I  will  no  more  doe  so. 

Cf)e  sfEconb  part  Co  tfie  siame  tune. 

7  A  /["Any  Crotchets  haue  I  plaid, 

IVX  which  in  performance  cost  me  deere, 
Whereby  my  substance  it  decay'd, 
therefore  He  such  tricks  casheere: 

my  mind  was  such 

it  ioy'd  me  much. 
When  I  such  mad  exploits  did  show, 

my  time  I  lost, 

beside  my  cost. 
But  now  I  will  no  more  doe  so. 

8  A  Taylor  once  well  sok't  in  Barley, 

profferd  to  lend  me  seuen  pound. 
About  the  same  we  two  did  parley, 
and  when  he  my  humour  found, 
a  shilHng  hee 
did  giue  to  me 
In  earnest,  his  kinde  loue  to  shew, 
and  I  in  game 
did  take  the  same. 
Because  he  sware  it  should  be  so. 

^  I.e.  Evesham.        ^  I.e.  Shipton  or  Shipston,  villages  near  Oxford. 



9    Hauing  tane  the  Taylors  shilling, 
a  lugge  of  beere  I  cal'd  for  then: 
I  paid  for  that,  and  then  was  willing 
to  giue  him  the  rest  agen : 
but  he  refus'd, 
and  rather  chus'd 
To  spend  the  rest  ere  he  did  goe, 
then  I  did  call 
and  paid  for  all, 
The  Taylor  wil'd  it  should  be  so. 

10  This  and  many  more  such  actions 

haue  I  done  to  please  my  humour: 
But  now  He  leaue  all  drunken  fashions, 
would  to  God  I  had  done  so  sooner: 
in  merryment 
my  time  I  spent, 
And  mony  too,  which  breeds  my  woe : 
now  my  mad  pranks, 
I  giue  God  thankes. 
Are  left,  and  He  no  more  doe  so. 

1 1  I  will  follow  my  Vocation 

with  industry  and  regard, 
And  maintaine  my  reputation, 

in  this  world  thats  growne  so  hard. 
Markets  are  naught, 
Ware  is  not  bought. 
As  twas  since  I  the  Trade  did  know, 
tis  time  therefore 
now  to  giue  ore 
Such  spending,  and  no  more  doe  so. 

12  My  wife  and  children  I  will  tender, 

more  then  heretofore  I  vs'd. 
He  be  no  more  so  vaine  a  spender, 
nor  will  I  be  with  drinke  abusde: 
He  learne  at  last 
ere  hope  is  past, 



My  selfe  a  ciuill  man  to  shew, 

and  banish  quite 

my  old  delight: 
Good  heauens  grant  I  may  doe  so. 

1 3    You  that  heare  my  recantation, 
which  I  purpose  to  obserue: 
When  you  see  this  alteration, 

from  my  rules  doe  you  not  swerue: 
through  Oxfordshire^ 
both  farre  and  neere. 
My  resolution  I  will  shew, 
that  euery  one 
which  so  hath  done. 
May  mend  with  me.   God  grant  it  so. 


Charles  Rickets. 

Printed  for  lohn  Wright. 



JVo  natural  mother 

Manchester  Free  Reference  Library  Collection,  ii,  2,  B.L.,  three  wood- 
cuts, three  columns. 

The  ballad  was  licensed  for  publication  on  July  16,  1634  (Arber's 
Transcript,  iv,  323).  A  better  example  of  a  good-night,  or  last  farewell, 
could  hardly  be  found,  though  many  of  the  stanzas  have  a  naivete  that  is 
a  bit  startling  and  that  is  somewhat  unusual  in  so  sophisticated  a  balladist 
as  Parker.  The  first  stanza  is  quoted  in  the  Roxburghe  Ballads,  viii,  xviii***, 
with  no  indication  of  its  source.  For  the  tune  see  Chappell's  Popular 
Music,  I,  176.  Welladay  was  the  favourite  tune  for  good-nights  after  it  had 
been  used  in  a  ballad  (1603)  attributed  to  Robert,  Earl  of  Essex.  Other 
famous  victims  of  the  law  whose  woes  were  sung  to  it  were  Thomas 
Wentworth,  Earl  of  Strafford  (British  Museum,  C.  20.  f.  2/8),  and 
Charles  I  {Roxburgke  Ballads,  viii,  xc***).  Cf.  also  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's 
lament  (No.  15). 

i^o  natiirall  iWottcr,  but  a  iHonSter. 

(!^r,  tfje  exact  relation  of  one,  loljo  for  making  atoap 

Ijer  otone  neto  borne  cfjilbe,  about  Brainford  neere 

London,  toajf  ijang'ti  at  Cepborne,  on  l^ebnesibap  tlje 

II.  of  December,  1633. 

To  the  tune  of,  Welladay. 

I     T  Ike  to  a  dying  Swan 
-L^  pensiuely,  pensiuely, 
(With  mourning)  I  looke  wan, 

for  my  life  passed; 
I  am  exceeding  sad, 
For  my  misdeeds  too  bad,  > 

O  that  before  I  had 

better  fore-casted. 


2  My  Parents  me  vp  brought, 

carefully,  carefully. 
Little  (God  wot)  they  thought, 

that  I  should  euer 
Haue  run  so  bad  a  race. 
To  dye  in  such  a  place, 
God  grant  all  Maidens  grace, 

to  take  example. 

3  Dame  Nature  shew'd  her  art, 

skilfully,  skilfully, 
For  I  in  euery  part, 

was  made  compleatly; 
But  my  vnbridled  will 
Did  put  me  forward  still. 
From  bad  to  further  ill, 

as  late  appeared. 

4  When  my  minority 

passed  was,  passed  was. 
And  some  maturity, 

I  had  attained, 
I  put  to  seruice  was. 
With  honest  meanes  to  passe^ 
My  time  which  is  alasse, 

too  soone  abridged. 

5  My  carriage  was  too  wild, 

woe  is  me,  woe  is  me. 
And  I  was  got  with  child, 

take  heed  faire  Maidens, 
The  father  on't  was  fled. 
And  all  my  hopes  were  dead, 
This  troubled  sore  my  head, 

woe  worth  that  folly. 

6  How  I  my  fault  might  hide, 

still  I  mus'd,  still  I  mus'd. 
That  I  might  not  be  spide, 
nor  yet  suspected, 



To  this  bad  thought  of  mine 
The  Deuill  did  incline, 
To  any  ill  designe, 
he  lends  assistance. 

7  Not  long  before  my  date 

was  expir'd,  was  expir'd, 
To  dwell  it  was  my  fate, 

in  a  good  seruice, 
With  people  of  good  note. 
All  thereabout  doe  know't. 
Where  this  foule  fact  I  wrought, 

to  my  destruction. 

8  When  the  full  time  drew  nigh, 

woe  is  me,  woe  is  me. 
Of  my  deliuery, 

unhappy  labour. 
Into  the  yard  I  ran. 
Where  sudden  pangs  began, 
There  was  no  woman  than, 

neere  to  assist  me. 

Ctie  geconb  part.  Co  tfje  game  tune. 

9  \T  7"  Ith  little  pain  or  smart, 

VV  strange  to  think,  strange  to  think 
I  with  my  child  did  part 

poore  harmelesse  Infant, 
Being  where  none  me  saw. 
Quite  against  natures  law, 
I  hid  it  in  the  straw, 

where  it  was  smother'd. 

lo   Then  in  againe  I  went, 
speedily,  speedily. 
Hoping  thus  to  preuent 
any  suspition, 



But  God  that  sits  on  high, 
With  his  all-seeing  eye, 
Did  see  my  cruelty, 
and  wicked  cunning. 

1 1  And  did  detect  the  same, 

presently,  presently. 
Unto  my  open  shame, 

and  vilde  discredit. 
Forcing  me  to  confesse. 
My  barbarous  wickednesse, 
That  fouly  did  transgresse 

thus  against  nature. 

12  My  Mistresse  to  me  said, 

earnestly,  earnestly, 
O  Besse  I  am  afraid, 

thou  hast  done  euill. 
Thy  Belly  that  was  high, 
Is  fallen  suddenly, 
This  though^  I  did  deny, 

she  further  vrged. 

13  My  conscience  did  me  cast 

[woefully,  woefully,]  2 
So  out  I  went  in  haste, 

she  followed  after. 
And  presently  she  saw. 
Me  run  vnto  the  straw. 
From  whence  I  soone  did  draw, 

my  strangled  Infant. 

14  Thus  taken  in  the  same, 

soone  I  was,  soone  I  was. 
With  great  disgrace  and  shame, 
carried  to  Newgate, 

^  Text  theugh.  2  Torn  off. 



And  at  the  Sessions  last, 
For  my  offences  past, 
I  was  condemned  and  cast, 
and  hangd  at  Teyborne. 

1 5  Sweet  Maidens  all  take  heed, 

heedfully,  heedfully, 
Adde  not  vnto  the  deed 

of  fornication, 
Murder  which  of  all  things, 
The  soule  and  conscience  stings. 
Which  God  to  light  still  brings, 

though  done  in  priuate. 

1 6  Though  the  first  fact  be  vilde, 

yet  be  sure,  yet  be  sure. 
If  you  be  got  with  childe, 

through  lawlesse  sporting. 
Be  grieu'd  for  your  offence, 
And  with  true  penitence, 
Striue  to  make  recompence, 

for  former  vices. 

1 7  Let  not  the  feare  of  shame, 

so  preuaile,  so  preuaile. 
As  to  win  you  the  name 

of  cruell  M[other.]i 
All  those  that  God  doe  feare, 
Are  frighted  when  they  heare. 
That  you  more  cruell  are 

than  Sauage  creatures. 

1 8  Obserue  the  female  Snake, 

carefully,  carefully. 
What  speedy  shift  she'l  make, 
to  saue  her  young  ones, 

^  Torn  off. 


Being  by  any  spide, 
Her  mouth  she  opens  wide, 
That  they  themselues  may  hide, 
within  her  belly. 

1 9  The  Tyger  though  by  kind, 

truculent,  truculent. 
As  nature  doth  her  binde, 

is  wondrous  tender. 
And  louing  to  her  young 
Whom  to  secure  from  wrong. 
Her  selfe  into  the  throng, 

shee  boldly  thrusteth. 

20  And  can  a  womans  heart, 

bloodily,  bloodily. 
So  willingly  depart 

from  her  owne  baby, 
You  that  good  women  be. 
Example  take  by  me. 
And  striue  your  selfe  to  free, 

from  shame  and  slander. 



London  printed  for  F.  Coule[s.]^ 
^  Torn. 




Murder  upon  murder 

Wood  401  (129),  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  five  columns.  The  first  column 
is  badly  mutilated:  missing  words  and  letters  in  stanzas  1-4  have  been 
supplied  in  square  brackets. 

The  melodious  tears  offered  in  this  ballad  to  the  memory  of  two  notorious 
criminals  may  account  for  the  references  that  were  made  to  them  for  years 
after  their  execution.  Thus  in  Merlinus  Anonymus,  for  1653,  March  21 
and  March  29  are  designated  as  "fest  days"  in  honour  of  Canbury  Bess 
and  Country  Tom;  in  Monte/ion,  1660,  Or,  The  Prophetical  Almanack 
(sig.  B"^),  January  3  and  4  are  dedicated  to  them;  and  in  Montelion,  1661 
(sig.  B'^),  January  2  and  3. 

In  the  Obituary  of  Richard  Smyth  (ed.  Ellis,  Camden  Society,  p.  10) 
occur  the  entries: 


Apr[il].     14.     The.  Sherwood  hanged  in  chains  in  Grays  Inne  Fields  for  the 
murther  of  Mr  Claxton  and  Holt. 
17.     Eliz.  Evans  hanged  also  there  for  ye  same  murther. 

A  full  account  of  the  two  is  given  in  H.  G[oodcole]'s  pamphlet  called 
Heavens  Speedie  Hue  and  Cry  sent  after  Lust  and  Murther,  1635  (British 
Museum,  C.  27.  c.  17).  Goodcole  tells  that  Canbury  Bess  and  Country 
Tom  killed  (i)  Rowland  Holt,  merchant,  in  Clerkenwell  Fields,  in  Janu- 
ary, 1635;  (2)  Lieutenant  Thomas  Claxton,  of  London,  on  April  i;  and 
(3)  Michael  Lowe.  Their  arrest,  trial,  and  execution  came  in  rapid  suc- 
cession. Sherwood  was  hanged  on  April  14,  and  made  a  most  edifying 
end.  At  the  gallows  he  confessed  and  lamented  his  crimes,  sang  part  of  the 
fifty-first  Psalm,  "and  after  that  by  his  request  was  sung  the  Lamentation 
of  a  sinner''''  \i.e.  the  ballad  of  "Fortune,  my  foe"].  Thereupon,  he  "ioy- 
fully  embraced"  his  death,  while  all  the  highly  edified  spectators  prayed 
aloud  for  his  soul.  His  body  was  hanged  in  chains  at  Battle-bridge,  near 
Pancras  Church,  where  such  crowds  of  people  swarmed  to  see  it  that 
fields  and  growing  crops  were  trodden  into  slush  and  mire.  The  irate 
ovraers  of  the  land  surrounding  the  gibbet  petitioned  the  King  and  Privy 
Council  to  remove  the  body.  Shortly  afterward,  it  was  moved  to  the 
"Ring-Cross  beyond  Islington."  After  the  execution  of  Elizabeth  Evans, 
on  April  17,  her  body  "was  conveied  to  Barber  Surgions  Hal  for  a  Skeleton 


having  her  bones  reserved  in  a  perfect  forme  of  her  body  which  is  to  be 
seene,  and  now  remaines  in  the  aforesaid  Hall^." 

The  ballad  is  earlier  in  date  than  H.  G.'s  pamphlet^:  it  may  have  appeared 
on  April  14,  1635  (cf.  the  title),  and  certainly  was  in  print  before  the 
execution  of  Canbury  Bess  on  April  17. 

Mnvhet  upon  iHurtrer, 
Committetl  bp  Thomas  Sherwood^  aliajS,  Countrey 
Tom :  anb  Fjlrzabeth  Kvans,  altasi,  Canbrye  Besse : 
tKtie  firsit  upon  iH.  Loe,  Cfje  2.  of  iW.  George  Holt 
of  Windzor,  toficim  inljumanelp  ti^e?  feilti  neare 
Islington  on  tfje  22.  bap  of  JTanuarp  1635.  Wi)t  lafilt 
upon  iW.  Thomas  Claxton  of  London,  tofjom  merci= 
leglp  tfjej>  murberetj  upon  tfje  sieconb  bap  of  ^priU 
lagt  pagt,  neare  unto  Hamtjs;  Conbuit  on  tfje  tiacfesfibe 
of  ilolborne,  toitl)  man?  otfjer  rotitjeriesi  anb  misicfjief  esi 
bp  tfjem  committeb  from  time  to  time  siince  iHibsiomer 
lasit  pagt,  noto  rebealeb  anb  confesit  tjj>  tfjem,  anb  noto 
accorbing  to  Jubsement  fje  isi  fjangb  neare  to  Hambs! 
Conbuit  XW  14  of  ^prill,  1635.  to  tfje  terror  of  all 

gucf)  offenberg. 

To  the  tune  of  Bragandary  downe,  &'c. 

1  [LJIst  Christians  all  vnto  my  song, 

'twill  moue  your  hearts  to  pitty, 
[W]hat  bloody  murders  haue  beene  done, 

[o]f  late  about  the  City: 
[W]ee  daily  see  the  brood  of  Cain, 
[Amjongst  vs  euer  will  remaine. 
[O  ?n\urder,  lust  and  murder, 

\is~\  the  joule  sinke  of  sin. 

2  [Thejre's  scarce  a  moneth  within  the  yeare, 

[bu]t  murders  vile  are  done, 

1  On  the  practice  of  preserving  the  skeletons  of  criminals  at  the  Barber 
Surgeons  Hall  see  Stow's  London,  ed.  Strype,  1720,  book  v,  p.  209. 

2  The  pamphlet  was  registered  for  publication  on  April  22,  1635. 


[The]  Son,  the  Father  murdereth, 

[th]e  Father  kills  the  Son, 
[TJwixt  man  and  man  there's  such  debate, 
[Whjich  in  the  end  brings  mortall  hate. 
O  murder^  &'c. 

3  The  mother  loseth  her  owne  life, 

cause  she  her  child  doth  kill, 
And  some  men  in  their  drunkennesse, 

[thejir  deare  friends  blood  doth  spill, 
[And]  many  more,  through  greedy  gaine, 
[The]  brother  hath  the  brother  slaine. 
[O  m'\urder,  ^c. 

4  [But  t]o  the  story  now  in  hand, 

[the]  truth  I  will  declare, 
[Whe]n  God  leaues  man  vnto  himselfe, 

[of  S]athan  then  beware, 
[A]s  doth  Sherwood  truely  finde, 
[Who]  vnto  murder  bent  his  mind. 
[O  murjder,  i^c. 

5  A  man  of  honest  parentage, 

traind  vp  to  husbandry. 
But  weary  of  that  honest  life, 

to  London  he  did  hye  : 
Where  to  his  dismall  wofull  Fate, 
He  chose  a  Queane  for  his  copesmate. 
O  murder y  Qc. 

6  One  Canbery  Besse  in  Turnball-street, 

on  him  did  cast  an  eye. 
And  prayd  him  to  giue  her  some  drinke, 

as  he  was  passing  by: 
O  too  too  soone  he  gaue  consent, 
And  for  the  same  doth  now  repent. 
O  murder^  i^c. 

7  For  by  alluring  tempting  bates, 

she  sotted  so  his  minde, 

R.p.G.  433  ^^ 


That  vnto  any  vlllany, 

fierce  Sherwood  was  inclind, 
His  coyne  all  spent  he  must  haue  more, 
For  to  content  his  filthy  (Whoore).^ 
O  murder^  ^c. 

8  Much  mischiefe  then  by  them  was  done 

in  and  about  the  City, 
But  still  they  scape  unpunished, 

(not  knowne)  more  was  the  pitty. 
To  deadly  sinnes  they  then  did  fall, 
Not  onely  robbe  but  murder  all. 
O  murder^  lust  and  murder^ 

is  the  joule  sinke  of  sin. 

9  The  first  was  Master  William  Loe, 

a  Gentleman  of  note. 
And  cruell  Sherwood  laid  him  low 

with  an  inhumane  stroke: 
Nor  birth  nor  bloud  they  did  regard, 
Yet  death  for  bloud  is  their  reward. 
O  murder^  ^c. 

10  One  Master  Holt  of  Winsor  towne, 

a  Norwich  Factor  he. 
Walking  abroad  to  take  the  ayre, 

felt  next  their  buchery. 
For  Sherwood  with  a  fatall  blow. 
This  goodman  kill'd,  his  quean  wil  so, 
O  murder^  i^c. 

1 1  His  cloak,  hat,  ruffe,  from  him  they  took 

eleuen  groats  also. 
And  were  about  his  cloathes  to  stripe, 

his  shirt,  shooes,  hose  thereto. 
But  being  scard,  away  they  flye, 
he  hath  confest  this  villany. 
O  murder^  ^c. 

^  No  period  in  the  text. 



12  A  vile  loose  life  they  still  run  on, 

regarding  not  their  end, 
Their  hearts  still  bent  to  cruelty, 

not  minding  to  amend: 
They  cannot  see  Sathan  the  deuill, 
That  drags  them  vnto  all  this  euill. 
O  murder^  lust  and  murder^ 

is  the  foule  sinke  of  sin. 

tEfje  jsecontr  part  tlTo  tfje  siame  tune. 

13  "pOr  being  flusht  with  humane  bloud, 
A     they  thirsted  still  for  more, 

The  more  from  God  O  man  thou  runst 

the  greater  is  thy  score: 
Like  rauening  wolues  they  pry  &  watch, 
How  they  the  innocent  may  catch. 
O  murder^  lust  and  murder^ 

is  the  foule  sinke  of  sin. 

14  The  last  that  fell  into  their  hands, 

was  Master  Claxton  he, 
A  Gentleman  of  good  descent, 

and  well  belou'd  truely. 
Who  walkt  vnarm'd  by  breake  of  day. 
In  holborne  fields  they  did  him  slay. 
O  murder^  ^c. 

15  A  scarlet  coate  from  him  they  tooke, 

new  suit  from  top  to  toe. 
His  bootes,  hat,  shirt  they  tooke  from  him 

much  money  eke  also, 
And  left  him  in  the  fields  so  wide 
So  fled  away  and  not  discride. 
O  murder,  £ffc. 

1 6  But  marke  the  goodnesse  of  the  Lord, 

on  the  succeeding  day. 
That  Sherwood  with  his  trull  did  think 
beyond  sea  take  their  way, 

435  EE2 


In  Hounsdich  were  together  tane, 
Selling  the  coat  in  the  same  lane. 
O  murder^  &'c. 

17  With  the  new  suit  vpon  his  back, 

and  all  things  else  beside, 
The  queane  the  hat  of  Master  HoUy 

which  they  had  murdered, 
So  vnto  Newgate  were  they  sent, 
Confest  all  this,  and  doe  repent. 
O  murder,  ^c. 

1 8  Wishing  all  men  when  as  they  walke 

to  haue  a  speciall  care. 
And  not  to  go  vnarm'd,  or  late, 

but  sword  or  truncheon  weare, 
Had  they  done  so  Sherwood  doth  say, 
He  had  not  ventred  them  to  slay. 
O  murder,  &€. 

1 9  Within  three  quarters  of  a  yeare, 

these  murders  they  haue  done. 
And  maim'd  and  spoiled  many  a  one, 

by  their  confession : 
Such  deadly  blowes  he  did  them  giue, 
Twas  strange  that  after  they  should  Hue. 
O  murder,  &c. 

20  For  these  bad  facts  he  now  doth  dye, 

iust  iudgement  for  his  meede. 
All  such  ill  liuers  grant  they  may, 

no  worse  nor  better  speed,  1 

So  shall  England  from  crying  sinne,  'jfj 

Be  euer  freed,  Gods  mercy  winne.  ; 

For  murder  lust  and  murder,  -^ 

is  the  joule  sinke  of  sinne, 


Printed  at  London  for  T.  Langley, 

and  are  to  be  sold  by  Thomas  Lambert 

in  Smithfield,  neare  to  the  Hospitall 




A  description  of  a  strange  fish 

Wood  401  (127),  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

This  ballad  has  been  reprinted  very  inaccurately  and  with  one  whole 
stanza  silently  omitted  in  Halliwell-Phillipps's  edition  of  The  Marriage  of 
Wit  and  Wisdom,  Shakespeare  Society,  1846,  p.  95.  Strange  fishes,  as 
Shakespeare  himself  bears  witness,  never  failed  to  attract  London  crowds. 
In  his  Annals  John  Stow  gravely  recounts  the  most  incredible  marvels 
about  fish:  one  mentioned  there  in  the  year  1606  is  scornfully  referred  to 
in  Ben  Jonson's  Volpone,  11,  i.  In  later  days,  too,  the  attraction  held.  Thus 
in  June,  1658,  Francis  Grove  printed  a  book  called  London's  Wonder. 
Being  a  most  true  and  positive  relation  of  the  taking  and  killing  of  a  great 
Whale  neer  to  Greenwich;  the  said  Whale  being  fifty  eight  foot  in  length, 
twelve  foot  high,  fourteen  foot  broad,  and  two  foot  between  the  Eyes  (Bodleian, 
Wood  487). 

Parker's  ballad  summarizes  some  pamphlet  which  I  have  not  been  able 
to  locate,  possibly  the  pamphlet  licensed  to  Nicholas  and  John  Okes  on 
May  16,  1636,  as  a  wonder  from  the  sea  Is'c.  of  a  fish.  It  is  evidently  of 
about  the  same  date  as  the  licenses  granted  by  Sir  Henry  Herbert  to 
"James  Scale  to  shew  a  strange  fish  for  half  a  yeare,  the  3d  of  September, 
1632,"  and  to  "Francis  Sherret,  to  shew  a  strange  fish  for  a  yeare,  from 
the  loth  of  Marche,  1635"  (Malone's  Shakespeare,  1821,  xiv,  368;  xv, 
95).  For  the  tune  cf.  No.  49. 



^  tiesicription  of  a  Strange  (anti  miraculous)  Jfist)» 
cast  upon  tfje  Sanbs  in  tije  meatis,  in  tfje  Jlunbreb  of 
Worwell,  in  tte  Count?  palatine  of  Chester,  (or 
Chesshiere.  W^t  certaintj*  tofjcreof  iS  Ijcrc  related 
concerning  tfje  Saib  most  monstrous  Jfisf). 

To  the  tune  of  Bragandary. 

OF  many  maruels  in  my  time 
I'ue  heretofore, 
But  here's  a  stranger  now  in  prime 

that's  lately  come  on  shore, 
Inuites  my  pen  to  specifie 
What  some  (I  doubt)  will  think  a  lie. 
O  rare 

beyond  compare, 
in  England  nere  the  like. 

It  is  a  fish,  a  monstrous  fish, 
a  fish  that  many  dreads, 



But  now  it  is  as  we  would  wish, 
cast  vp  o'th  sands  i'th  meads, 
In  Chesshire;  and  tis  certaine  true, 
Describ'd  by  those  who  did  it  view. 
O  rare 

beyond  compare., 
in  England  nere  the  like. 

3  Full  twenty  one  yards  and  one  foot 

this  fish  extends  in  length, 
With  all  things  correspondent  too't, 

for  amplitude  and  strength: 
Good  people  what  I  shall  report, 
Doe  not  account  it  fained  sport. 
O  rare 

beyond  compare^ 
in  England  nere  the  like. 

4  It  is  almost  fiue  yards  in  height, 

which  is  a  wondrous  thing, 
O  mark  what  maruels  to  our  sight 

our  Potent  Lord  can  bring. 
These  secrets  Neptune  closely  keeps 
Within  the  bosome  of  the  deeps. 
O  rare 

beyond  compare., 
in  England  nere  the  like. 

5  His  lower  jaw-bone's  fiue  yards  long, 

the  vpper  thrice  so  much, 
Twelue  yoak  of  oxen  stout  and  strong, 

(the  weight  of  it  is  such) 
Could  not  once  stir  it  out  o'th  sands 
Thus  works  the  All-creating  hands. 
O  rare 

beyond  compare.^ 
in  England  nere  the  like. 



6  Some  haue  a  project  now  in  hand, 

(which  is  a  tedious  taske) 
When  the  Sea  turnes,  to  bring  to  Land 

the  same  with  empty  cask: 
But  how  I  cannot  well  conceiue, 
To  each  mans  judgement  that  I  leaue. 
O  rare 

beyond  compare^ 
in  England  nere  the  like. 

7  The  lower  jaw-bone  nam'd  of  late, 

had  teeth  in't  thirty  foure. 
Whereof  some  of  them  are  in  weight 

two  pounds,  or  rather  more: 
There  were  no  teeth  i'th  vpper  jaw, 
But  holes,  which  many  people  saw. 
O  rare 

beyond  compare^ 
in  England  nere  the  like. 

W^t  sieconb  part,  ^o  tfje  siame  tune. 

8  T  T  Is  Pissle  is  in  length  foure  yards, 
1  1  big  as  a  man  i'th  wast, 

This  monster  he  who  well  regards, 

from  th'  first  vnto  the  last. 
By  euery  part  may  motiues  find. 
To  wonder  at  this  wondrous  kind. 
O  rare 

beyond  compare, 
in  England  nere  the  like. 

9  His  Cods  are  like  two  hogsheads  great, 

this  seemeth  past  beleefe. 
But  men  of  credit  can  relate 

what  I  describe  in  briefe: 
Then  let's  with  charity  confesse 
Gods  works  are  more  then  man  can  guesse. 
O  rare,  &c. 



10  The  tongue  on't  Is  so  mighty  large, 

I  will  it  not  expresse, 
Lest  I  your  credit  ouer-charge, 

but  you  may  easily  guesse, 
That  sith  his  shape  so  far  excels, 
The  tongue  doth  answer  all  parts  else. 
O  rare,  ^c. 

1 1  A  man  on  horseback  as  tis  try'd 

may  stand  within  his  mouth, 
Let  none  that  hears  it  this  deride, 

for  tis  confirm'd  for  truth : 
By  those  who  dare  auouch  the  same. 
Then  let  the  Writer  beare  no  blame. 
O  rare,  &'c. 

12  His  nerues  or  sinewes  like  Bulls  pissles, 

for  riding  rods  some  vse : 
Of  Spermaceti  there's  some  vessels: 

if  this  be  the  worst  newes, 
That  of  this  monster  we  shall  heare. 
All  will  be  well  I  doe  not  feare. 
O  rare,  ^c. 

1 3  Already  sixteene  tuns  of  Oyle 

is  from  this  fish  extracted. 
And  yet  continually  they  boyle, 

no  season  is  protracted: 
It  cannot  be  imagin'd  how  much 
'Twill  yeeld,  the  vastnesse  on't  is  such. 
O  rare,  &'c. 

14  When  he  vpon  the  sands  was  cast 

aliue,  which  was  awhile: 
He  yell'd  so  loud,  that  many  (agast) 

heard  him  aboue  sixe  mile: 
Tis  said  the  Female  fish  likewise 
Was  heard  to  mourne  with  horrid  cryes: 
O  rare,  &c. 



15    The  Mariners  of  Chester  say 
a  Herring-hog  tis  nam'd: 
Whatere  it  be,  for  certaine  they 
that  are  for  knowledge  fam'd, 
Affirme,  the  like  in  ages  past 
Upon  our  Coast  was  neuer  cast. 
O  rare 

beyond  compare^ 
in  England  nere  the  like. 

M.P.  J 

Printed  at  London  for  Thomas  Lambert,  at  ^H 
the  sign  of  the  Hors-shoo  in  Smithfield. 

There  is  a  Book  to  satisfie  suck  as  desire  a  ™ 

larger  description  hereof.  f 



Round^  boys^  indeed 

Pepys,  I,  442,  B.L.,  four  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

A  pretty,  musical  ditty  by  Laurence  Price  on  the  favourite  topic  of  shoe- 
makers. Evidently  it  was  the  ballad  called  "A  Merry  Round  &c."  which 
John  Wright,  Jr,  registered  on  June  24,  1637  (Arber's  Transcript,  iv, 
386).  Price,  the  chief  rival  of  Martin  Parker,  wrote  very  many  ballads  of 
equal  merit  to  Parker's,  but  has  left  behind  him  almost  no  biographical 
record.  There  is  a  meagre  sketch  of  his  life  in  the  Dictionary  of  National 
Biography,  and  a  few  other  facts  about  him  are  given  in  my  "Martin 
Parker,  Ballad-Monger,"  Modern  Philology,  xvi  (19 19),  120.  Of  the 
friendly  rivalry  that,  at  least  for  a  time,  existed  between  Price  and  Parker 
many  evidences  remain  (cf.  No.  71);  such  as  the  habit  each  had  of  writing 
ballads  to  tunes  named  for  a  ballad  by  the  other  and  of  answering  each 
other's  productions.  Price,  furthermore,  contributed  complimentary 
verses  to  Parker's  pamphlet,  Harry  White's  Humour  (1637),  and  mentions 
him  by  name  in  his  Map  of  Merry  Conceits,  1656,  sig.  A  2  (originally 
issued  in  1639). 

In  striking  contrast,  however,  to  the  numerous  references  to  Parker,  I 
have  found, — after  covering  the  period  with  some  care, — only  three  allu- 
sions to  Price.  In  a  broadside  in  the  Luttrell  Collection  (11,  22)  called  "On 
Bugbear  Black-Monday,  March  29.  1652.  Or,  The  London-Fright  at  the 
Eclipse  proceeding  from  a  Natural  cause,"  astrological  pamphlets  by  him 
and  by  Will  Lilly  are  thus  sneered  at: 

,  Was  't  Laurence  Price's  Shepherd's  Gnostication 

With  cunning  M^ill's  wise  Astrologization, 
That  put  ye  in  distemper,  and  such  fits. 
As  if  their  folly  practis'd  on  your  wits  ? 

Mercurius  Democritus  for  April  13-20,  1653  (p.  416),  after  a  scurrilous 
tale,  breaks  off  with  the  remark:  "but  more  of  this  the  next  week;  because 
you  shall  then  have  the  true  relation  in  a  Ballad,  to  the  Tune  of  the  7 
Champions  of  the  Pens  in  Smithfield,  written  by  Lawrenc\e\  Priced  He  is 
also  classed  as  one  of  the  "glorious  three  of  poetry" — along  with  the 
equally  prominent  ballad-writers  Samuel  Smithson  and  Humphrey  Crouch 
— in  S.  F.'s  Death  in  a  New  Dress,  or  Sportive  Funeral  Elegies  (1656), 
sig.  A  2^.  S.  P.,  writing  a  comic  elegy  on  Robin,  the  Annyseed-water  seller, 
expresses  his  astonishment  that  this  celebrated  personage  (an  hermaphro- 



dite)  has  been  dead  so  long  "without  the  meed  of  some  melodious  tear." 
He  exclaims: 

♦Samuel  Ye  glorious  *three 

^*^'  Who  grasp  the  Poles  of  Star-crown'd  Poesie; 

Hum-  Has  som  Cask-piercing**  Youth  poison'd  your  wine 

Crowch  With  wicked  Lathe?  Did  you  ever  dine 

Law-  On  Turnep-tops,  without  or  Salt,  or  Butter, 

Price  That  amongst  all  your  Canzonets,  or  clutter 

••Drawer  You  fail'd  to  mention  this  deceased  Robbin, 

^™^  '  It  seems  you  ne'r-quaft  Nectar  in  his  Noggin, 
As  I  have  done. 

The  passage  is  all  the  more  interesting  in  that  allusions  to  Crouch  and 
Smithson  are  as  rare  as  are  allusions  to  Price. 

iRounb  tjopeji  inbeeb. 

Peing  a  berp  pleasant  neto  Bittp, 

Eo  fit  boti)  Country,  tE^otone  anb  Citie, 

IBeltsbttuU  to  perusie  in  eberp  begree, 

Come  gallant  (Gentlemen,  bansiell  from  j>ou  let  me  ^tt} 

To  a  pleasant  new  Tune: 

I     T  TEre  we  are  good  fellowes  all, 
i-  1  round  Boyes  round: 
Attendance  giue  when  we  doe  call, 

round  boyes  indeed. 
Since  we  are  here  good  fellowes  all, 

drinke  we  must  and  worke  we  shall. 
And  worke  we  will  what  ere  befall, 

for  money  to  serue  our  need. 

1    We  get  our  liuings  by  our  hands, 
round  boyes  round^ 
Then  fill  vs  beare  at  our  commands, 

round  boyes  indeed., 

^  Text  has  a  comma.  ^  No  comma  in  the  text. 



Our  liuings  we  get  by  our  hands, 
as  plainly  you  may  vnderstand. 
Whilst  many  gallants  sell  their  land, 
for  money  to  serue  their  need, 

3  We  set  our  stitches  iust  and  straight, 

round  boyes  round^ 
And  doe  our  worke  without  deceite, 

round  boyes  indeed^ 
The  Munday  Sundayes  fellow  be, 

when  tuesday  comes  to  worke  fall  we 
And  fall  to  worke  most  merrily, 

for  money  to  serue  our  need. 

4  The  titles  which  our  trade  adorne, 

round  boyes  rounds 
Shoemakers  sonnes  were  princes  borne, 

round  boyes  indeed., 
For  kind  S  Hughe  and  Crispins  sake, 

a  merry  day  we  meane  to  make. 
And  after  to  our  tooles  betake, 

for  money  to  serue  our  need. 

5  And  if  our  Master  angry  seeme, 

round  boyes  rounds 
W^e  little  doe  of  that  esteeme, 

round  boyes  indeed^ 
S.  Hughs  bones  vp  we  take  in  hast, 

both  pinsers,  punching  alle  and  last, 
The  gentle  Craft  was  neuer  disgrast, 

they  haue  money  to  serue  their  need. 

6  If  we  want  cash  ouer  night, 

round  boyes  rounds 
We  shall  not  long  be  in  that  plight, 

round  boyes  indeed^ 
Next  day  ere  morne  God  will  vs  send, 

if  wee  to  worke  our  humour  bend. 
And  merry  make  each  friend  with  friend 

with  money  to  serue  our  need. 



7  We  scorne  such  cheating  knaues  and  queanes,^ 

round  hoyes  round^ 
Which  doe  not  Hue  by  honest  meanes, 

round  hoyes  indeed^ 
When  theues  &  whores  to  tyburne  pack 

wele  drink  strong  beere  good  ale  and  sack, 
The  gentle  Craft  did  neuer  lacke, 

for  money  to  serue  their  need. 

tlTfje  sieconb  part  Co  tfje  siante  tune. 

8  /~\  Fie  vpon  the  cursed  crew, 
v_y  round  hoyes  round, 

We  doe  defie  the  cursed  crew, 

round  hoyes  indeed, 
The  gallowes  take  that  wicked  crue, 

that  will  not  keepe  them  iust  and  true. 
And  pay  to  euery  man  his  due, 

and  haue  money  to  serue  their  need. 

9  The  shirking  rooke  and  base  decoy, 

round  hoyes  round. 
Our  company  shall  not  inioy, 

round  hoyes  indeed. 
But  with  those  men  of  good  report, 

that  lead  their  Hues  in  honest  sort, 
A  lugg  or  two  will  make  vs  sport, 

we  haue  money  to  serue  our  need. 

lo   The  smith,  the  weauer,  and  the  tayler, 

round  hoyes  round. 
The  feriman  and  the  iouiall  sayler, 

round  hoyes  indeed. 
The  mariner  and  souldier  bold, 

are  in  the  booke  of  fame  inrold,^ 
That  ventured  haue  their  Hues  for  gold 

and  money  to  serue  their  need. 

1  No  comma  in  the  text.  ^  Text  has  a  period. 



1 1  The  carpenter  we  daily  see, 

round  boyes  rounds 
The  mason  and  bricklayers  be, 

round  boyes  indeed^ 
The^  Costerdmonger  will  not  shrinke, 

he  is  noe  niggard  of  his  chincke, 
But  with  boone  blades  will  sit  &  drinke 

when  he  of  it  hath  need. 

1 2  The  maltman  and  the  baker  stout, 

round  boyes  round^ 
Will  with  the  brewer  haue  aboute, 

round  boyes  indeed^ 
The  tapster  may  not  loose  his  share, 

though  barly  broth  be  nere  so  deare, 
Hele  giue  his  friend  a  iugg  of  beare, 

if  that  he  stand  in  need. 

1 3  The  butcher  if  he  be  a  drie, 

round  boyes  rounds 
Hele  keepe  good  fellowes  company, 

round  boyes  indeed. 
The  tanner  when  he  comes  to  towne, 

weighs  not  the  spending  of  a  crowne. 
Amongst  his  chapmen  up  and  downe, 

he  hath  money  to  serue  his  need. 

14  All  those  good  fellowes  which  are  nam'd 

round  boyes  round. 
Within  this  song  I  here  haue  fram'd, 

are  round  boyes  indeed, 
The  gentle  Craft  doth  beare  good  will, 

to  all  kind  hearted  tradesmen  still, 
That  keepe  the  prouerbe  to  fullfill, 

a  penny  to  serve  their  need. 

^  The  T  of  this  word  was  dropped  in  printing  to  the  /le  of  the  following 



1 5  Now  to  conclude  my  harmlesse  dittie, 

round  boyes  rounds 
I  wish  both  countrie  towne  and  Citie, 

round  boyes  indeed. 
That  euery  man  and  woman  kind, 

a  faithfull  friend  may  euer  finde 
So  here  my  friends  you  know  my  mind, 

keepe  money  to  serue  your  need. 

1 6  I  trust  none  of  this  company, 

round  boyes,  round^ 
Will  with  this  song  offended  bee, 

round  boyes  indeed, 
therefore  let  some  kind  Creature  heare 

giue  hansell  for  to  buy  me  beere. 
To  make  my  throat  more  shrill  &  cleere 

you  see^  I  haue  great  need. 


Printed  at  London  for  /.  Wright. 

1  No  comma  in  the  text. 

2  Text  sac. 



A  monstrous  shape 

Wood  401  (135),  B.L.,  three  woodcuts,  four  columns.  One  stanza  is 
printed  from  this  copy  in  the  Roxburgke  Ballads,  viii,  28. 

In  December,  1639,  the  "hog-faced  gentlewoman"  created  great  ex- 
citement in  London  journalistic  circles.  Ballads  called  "The  Woman 
Monster,"  "A  Maiden  Monster,"  "A  Strange  Relation  of  a  Female  Mon- 
ster," "A  New  Ballad  of  the  Swines-faced  Gentlewoman,"  and  "A  Wonder 
of  These  Times,"  registered  on  December  4—1  r,  spread  her  fame  abroad. 
Laurence  Price's  ballad  was  apparently  not  among  these  registrations. 
Along  with  the  ballads  appeared  (on  December  5)  a  book  entitled  A  cer- 
taine  Relation  of  the  Hog-faced  Gentlewoman  called  Mistris  Tannakin 
Skinker,  zv/io  was  borne  at  Wirkkam  a  Neuter  Towne  betweene  the  Emperour 
and  the  Hollander,  scituate  on  the  river  Rhyne.  Who  was  bewitched  in  her 
mothers  wombe  in  the  yeare  161 8,  and  hath  lived  ever  since  unknowne  in  this 
kind  to  anyy  but  her  Parents  and  a  few  other  neighbours.  And  can  never 
recover  her  true  shape  tell  she  be  married  ^c.  Also  relating  the  cause,  as  it  is 
since  conceived,  how  her  mother  came  so  bewitched  (Ashbee's  Occasional 
Fac-Simile  Reprints,  No.  16).  According  to  the  book,  if  any  man  will  have 
the  courage  to  marry  this  ugly  but  immensely  wealthy  woman  he  will  find, 
as  John  Gower  tells  in  the  Confessio  Amantis  (book  i,  w.  1407  ff.),  that 
immediately  her  deformity  will  vanish  and  her  beauty  become  ravishing. 
The  same  z^o///"  underlies  Chaucer's  Wife  of  Bath's  Tale  and  the  traditional 
ballad  of  "The  Marriage  of  Sir  Gawain"  (F.  J.  Child's  English  and 
Scottish  Popular  Ballads,  No.  31).  See,  further,  Maynadier's  Wife  of 
Bath's  Tale,  Its  Sources  and  Analogues,  1901. 

"The  Swines-fac't  Lady"  is  the  subject  of  an  epigram  in  Robert 
Chamberlain's  Jocabella,  1640.  Mercurius  Democritus  for  October  19-26, 
1653,  tells  of  a  monstrous  giant  "taken  by  an  English  Merchant  in  a 
certain  Hand  in  America  called  Nera,"  and  remarks  that  ^''The  Hgogs- 
fac'd  [j/c]  Gentle-Woman  is  sent  for  out  oi  Holland  to  be  his  godmother." 
(The  same  allusion  is  made  in  a  separate  tract  on  this  subject  printed  by 
John  Crouch  in  1653.)  Mercurius  Fumigosus,  August  9—16,  1654,  p.  ro6, 
speaks  of  "the  Signe  oi  Hoggs-fac'd  Gentlewoman  in  Bartholmew  Faire." 
"The  swine  fac'd  Lady"  is  mentioned  also  in  Ad  Populum,  or  A  Low- 
Country  Lecture,  1653,  sig.  A  2^.  There  is  a  wonderful  lithographic  fac- 
simile of  Miss  Skinker,  catalogued  under  her  name,  in  the  British  Museum. 

Sv^ne-faced  ladies  of  a  much  later  period  are  frequently  reported. 

R.p.G.  449 



though  many  of  them  were  at  the  time  disclosed  as  frauds.  John  Pitts,  of 
14,  Great  St  Andrew  Street,  Seven  Dials,  London,  printed  about  1800  a 
ballad  of  "The  Pig  Faced  Lady.  Sung  at  Astley's  Theatre,  &c."  (Douce 
Collection,  iii,  132.)  The  first  stanza  runs: 

Your  zarvant  all  round  and  you  zee  I  be  here, 
And  what  I  left  plough  for  will  soon  make  appear, 
For  I's  come  to  Lunnun  an  outlandish  place, 
To  marry  the  lady  that's  got  the  Pig's  face ! 
Tura,  lura,  lal  lura,  tura  lura,  lal  la. 

There  is  also  a  marvellous  portrait  of  an  Irish  lady  on  a  sheet  in  the  British 
Museum  called  "The  Pig-Faced  Lady  of  Manchester-Square.  ..  Pub- 
lished by  John  Fairburn,  2,  Broadway,  Ludgate-Hill.  {Price  One  Shillings 
coloured.),"  181 5  (2188(2)).  A  less  satisfactory  portrait  is  in  2188(3). 
James  Caulfield's  Book  of  Wonderful  Characters,  1869,  has  an  account  of 
hog-faced  ladies  and  an  engraving  of  "the  Wonderful  Miss  Atkinson," 
born  in  Ireland,  worth  ^^20,000,  but  fed  from  a  silver  trough.  Cf.  also 
Ebsworth's  notes  in  the  Roxburghe  Ballads,  viii,  28. 

The  tune  is  given  in  Chappell's  Popular  Music,  i,  240.  It  is  worth 
noting,  also,  that  a  Douce  (i,  52,  62^)  ballad  of  "The  Daughter's  Com- 
plaint"is  directed  to  be  sung  to  '"''The  Spanish  paving,  or  the  Lovers  Dream; 
or,  Martin  Parkers  Medley T  Parker's  "Medley"  {Roxburghe  Ballads,  i, 
52)  is  "to  the  Tune  of  Tarl ton's  Medley,"  which  has  hitherto  been  un- 
known but  may  now  be  identified  with  the  Spanish  Pavin. 




^  gfjapElesfsie  illonslter. 

^  Bcfiicription  of  a  female  creature  borne  in  ||oUanb, 

compleat  in  eijerp  part,  siabe  onlp  a  fteali  like  a  jitoine, 

tofjo  fjatlj  trabaileb  into  manp  partg,  anb  isi  noto  to  be 

geene  in  %(BM^0M^, 

^fjees  lotjing,  courteous:,  anb  effeminate, 

^nti  nere  as;  pet  coulb  finb  a  lobing  mate. 

To  the  tune  of /i^  Spanish  Pavin. 

^   Wood  added  in  MS.  1 640. 



OF  horned  Vulcan  I  haue  heard, 
His  teeth  were  longer  the  his  beard, 
Whose  monstrous  looks  made  all  afeard 

which  did  that  night  behold  him: 
And  of  transformed  Acteon, 
Which  like  a  Hart  in  Forest  ran, 
And  how  faire  Lidia  like  a  Swan 

Of  Robin  Goodfellow  also. 
Which  was  a  seruant  long  agoe, 
The  Queen  of  Fairies  doth  it  know, 

and  hindered  him  in  fashion : 
She  knew  not  what  she  did  her  selfe. 
She  chang'd  him  like  a  Fairie  elfe, 
For  all  his  money,  goods,  and  pelfe, 

she  gull'd  him. 

But  yet  be  brisk  you  Yonkers  bold, 
And  list  to  what  I  shall  vnfold. 
Such  newes  afore  was  neuer  told, 

as  I  will  now  relate: 
My  subiect  is  of  such  a  Girle, 
That  hath  both  siluer,  gold,  and  pearle, 
Yet  neuer  will  be  for  an  Earle 

right  fitted. 

This  Urokin  as  I  vnderstand. 
Is  now  arriued  from  Dutchland, 
And  hath  as  much  gold  at  command 

that  she  would  wish  or  craue: 
Her  portion  threescore  thousand  pound, 
Both  corn  and  cattell  on  her  ground, 
As  good  as  any  may  be  found 

in  Holland. 

Besides,  a  dainty  Lasse  is  she, 
A  Boores  daughter  in  the  Low-country, 
Her  mother  is  in  her  degree 
a  very  proper  Fro, 



And  all  the  Tribe  from  whence  she  came 
Call  her  faire  Pigs  nye  by  her  name, 
You'l  say  they  haue  reason  for  the  same 

6  To  describe  her  from  top  to  toe, 
I  purpose  now  for  to  doe  so, 

And  shew  how  neatly  she  doth  goe 
when  young  men  come  a  wooing: 

She  shews  her  pretty  heele  and  foot, 

A  dainty  leg  adioyning  to't, 

Her  stockins  silk,  if  that  will  do't 
she  cares  not. 

®lje  sieconb  part,  tKo  tfte  siamt  tune. 

7  T  T  Er  person  it  is  straight  and  tall, 

i-  1   A  lilly  white  hand,  her  fingers  small 
Makes  her  the  handsomest  wench  of  all 

that  euer  her  father  got: 
In  handsomnesse  she  doth  excell 
Both  bouncing  Kate,  and  bonny  Nell, 
In  dancing  she  doth  beare  the  bell 

of  many. 

8  So  choice  of  face  she  is  indeed. 
As  oft  as  she  doth  stand  in  need, 
A  siluer  trough  she  hath  to  feed, 

when  euer  she  wants  victuall : 
The  siluer  trough  is  straight  brought  out 
Wherein  she  puts  her  dainty  snout. 
And  sweetly  sucks  till  all  is  out 

of  action. 

9  And  to  speak  further  for  her  grace. 
She  hath  a  dainty  white  swines  face. 
Which  shews  that  she  came  of  a  race 

that  loued  fat  porke  and  bacon: 



Yet  would  I  not  her  kindred  wrong, 
Her  nose  I  think  is  two  foot  long, 
Also  her  breath  is  very  strong 
and  fulsome. 

10  Yet  let  no  party  her  despise. 

She  is  furnished  with  two  pigs  nies. 
Though  something  of  the  largest  size, 

they  doe  become  her  neatly, 
Her  ears  hang  lolling  toward  the  ground 
More  fairer  then  a  mastie  hound. 
Thus  are  her  fortunes  still  renown'd 

by  hearesay. 

1 1  Great  store  of  suters  euery  day. 
Resort  vnto  her  as  they  say. 

But  who  shall  get  this  girle  away, 

as  yet  I  doe  not  know: 
But  thus  much  I  dare  vndertake, 
If  any  doe  a  wife  her  make. 
It  is  onely  for  her  moneyes  sake 

he  loues  her. 

12  If  any  young  man  long  to  see 
This  creature  wheresoere  she  be, 

I  would  haue  him  be  rul'd  by  me, 

and  not  to  be  too  forward, 
Lest  he  at  last  should  fare  the  worse, 
Although  she  haue  a  golden  purse. 
She  is  not  fit  to  be  a  nurse 

in  England. 


Printed  by  M.F.  for  Tko:  Lambert,  and 

are  to  be  sold  at  the  signe  of  the 

Horse  shooe  in  Smithfield. 




A  new  Spanish  tragedy 

Wood  401  (137),  B.L.,  two  woodcuts,  four  columns. 

In  a  MS.  note  Wood  dates  the  ballad  "  1640  or  41."  It  was,  however, 
licensed  to  John  Stafford  as  "a  New  Spanish  Tragedy  or  the  late  fight 
betwixt  the  Spaniards  and  Hollanders"  on  October  15,  1639  (Arber's 
Transcript,  iv,  484).  Five  other  ballads  on  this  event  were  entered  on  the 
same  day:  only  one  of  them — Martin  Parker's  "A  Lamentable  Relation 
of  a  Fearful  Fight  at  Sea,  upon  our  English  Coast,  Between  the  Spaniard 
and  the  Hollander..  .  .To  the  Tune  of  Let  us  to  the  Wars  againe"  (cf. 
No.  73) — appears  to  be  extant.  It  begins  "In  every  place  where  men  did 
meet,"  and  is  reprinted  in  Ballads  from  the  Collections  of  Sir  James 
Balfour,  pp.  8—12.  Ballads  dealing  with  the  first  naval  engagement  of 
September  6  had  been  registered  on  September  16  and  September  23 
(Arber's  Transcript,  iv,  478,  480).  Of  the  two  ballads  registered  on  the 
latter  day,  one  is  preserved.  It  is  entitled  "A  famous  Sea-fight:  OR,  [A 
Bloojdy  Battell,  which  was  fought  between  the  Spaniard  [and  th]e  Hol- 
lander, beginning  on  the  sixth  day  of  this  present  month  of  September, 
l63[9]  being  Friday..  .  .To  the  Tune  oi  Brave  Lord  IVilloughby."  It 
begins  "Give  ear  you  lusty  gallants,  my  purpose  is  to  tell,"  was  printed 
by  Francis  Grove,  is  signed  by  John  Lookes,  and  is  preserved  (though 
somewhat  mutilated)  in  the  Manchester  Collection. 

Price's  spirited  ballad  is  a  good  verse  rendering  of  a  news-pamphlet:  it 
gives  abundant  information;  and  though  this  information  came  to  him  at 
second  hand,  his  ballad  is  almost  as  satisfactory  a  document  to  a  modern 
student  of  history  as  it  was  to  a  news-hungry  throng  of  listeners  in  Charles 
I's  time.  The  occasion  for  the  ballad  was  this:  Sir  John  Pennington, 
English  Admiral  guarding  the  Narrow  Seas,  was  lying  in  the  Downs  when 
the  Spanish  fleet  for  Dunkirk,  with  troops  on  board,  was  driven  into  the 
Downs,  on  September  6,  by  the  Dutch  fleet  under  Trump.  The  latter 
fleet  also  anchored  there.  Pennington  insisted  that  the  neutrality  of  the 
roadstead  be  observed.  On  October  1 1,  however,  after  receiving  large  rein- 
forcements from  Holland,  Trump  attacked  and  destroyed  the  Spanish 
fleet,  while  Pennington  helplessly  looked  on.  He  had  no  instructions, 
indeed,  to  do  anything  else,  though  apparently  he  favoured  Spain.  The 
victory  of  the  Dutch  was  received  in  England  with  joy,  for  some  people 
there  believed  that  the  Spaniards  had  come,  at  the  invitation  of  Charles  I, 
to  crush  English  liberty. 



The  tune  is  derived  from  the  ballad  of  "The  Angel  Gabriel:  his  Salu- 
tation to  the  blessed  Virgin  Mary.  To  the  Tune  of  The  Blazing  Torch  is 
soon  burnt  out"  {Roxburgke  Ballads,  vii,  779),  but  the  tune  of  The  Blazing 
Torch  is  not  known  (cf.  No.  37). 

^  neto  ^panis!}|  ©ragebp. 


iWore  Srtrange  netuesi  from  tfte  narroto  sieasi,  bi2!cober= 
tns  ttDO  mosit  breabfull  ^ea  ii^i^  bettoeene  ti)e 
^paniarb  anb  tfje  ||oUanber,  tfje  firsit  {)appeneb>n 
^eptemtier  tiie  6,  anb  ti^e  sieconb  upon  Jfribap  tije 
I X  of  (I^ctotier  last,  in  tofjict)  totrc  man?  1000  silaine, 
anb  of  tfje  ^paniarbsi  bjasf  16  gfjipsf  grounbeb,  28 
fireb,  fliome  siunfee  into  ti^c  sfea,  anb  siome  tafeen. 

To  the  tune  of  the  Angel  Gabriel. 

I      ALL  you  that  are  brave  Saylors, 
-iJ^  of  courage  stout  and  bold, 
Give  eare  unto  a  fight  at  Sea, 

I  purpose  to  unfold, 
Newes  of  a  famous  battell, 

fought  on  the  Ocean  main, 
Betweene  the  Hollander, 

and  a  mighty  Fleet  of  Spaine, 

1    The  King  of  Spaines  great  Navy, 

for  warre  being  ready  bent. 
About  our  coasts  lay  hovering, 

we  know  not  their  intent. 
The  Hollander  perceiving  this, 

went  towards  them  amaine, 
Not  fearing  of  the  force, 

of  the  mighty  Fleet  of  Spaine. 

3    The  sixt  of  our  September  1, 
began  a  dreadfull  fight, 

^  I.e.  September  17,  new  style. 


Not  ceasing  of  the  battel!, 
by  day,  nor  yet  by  night,^ 

Untill  such  time  that  thousands, 
on  both  sides  there  were  slaine,' 

Both  of  the  Hollanders, 

and  the  mighty  Fleet  of  Spaine. 

4  Much  blood  shed  was  amongst  them,^ 

and  many  harmes  were  done, 
Untill  that  they  were  forc'd  to  part, 

by  noble  Pennington^ 
Who  charg'd  them  to  give  over,i 

or  else  he  told  them  plaine, 
That  he  would  sinke  their  ships, 

into  the  Ocean  maine. 

5  Whereby  some  of  the  Spaniards 

thought  to  escape  by  flight. 
The  Hollanders  prepared, 

with  them  againe  to  fight, 
And  compass'd  them  about, 

their  quarrell  to  maintaine. 
Vowing  to  be  revenged 

on  the  mighty  Fleet  of  Spaine. 

6  And  so  upon  the  eleventh  day, 

in  this  moneth  of  October, 
They  had  permission  for  to  fight, 

neere  Deal  not  farre  from  Dover, 
The  Dutchmen  were  resolved, 

to  kill  or  to  be  slaine. 
And  bravely  all  prepared, 

against  the  Fleet  of  Spaine. 

Wbt  sieconb  part,  Co  tije  jfame  tune. 

7  OO  giving  the  first  onset 
O  unto  this  second  Battell, 

^  Text  has  a  period. 



Their  Trumpets  sound,  their  Ensigns  spred, 
and  their  warHke  Drums  did  rattle: 

The  thundring  Canons  roar'd, 
Bullets  as  thick  as  rain 

Came  from  the  Holland  ships 
unto  the  Fleet  of  Spain. 

8  No  mercie  'mongst  these  Enemies 

could  at  that  time  be  found, 
Full  1 6  of  the  Spanish  ships 

were  forc'd  to  run  o'th  ground. 
28  more  at  Sea  were  fired, 

thousands  of  men  were  slain 
Both  of  the  Hollander, 

and  their  enemies  of  Spaine. 

9  The  Spaniards  in  this  conflict, 

was  much  with  terrour  fill'd. 
For  one  man  of  the  Hollanders, 

ten  Spaniards  then  were  kill'd, 
Their  Scooper-holes  run  down  with  blood, 

into  the  Ocean  maine. 
Which  made  them  cry  alas  we  shall 

never  returne  to  Spaine. 

10  Good  Lord  it  was  great  griefe  to  see, 

dead  men  cast  on  the  ground : 
Some  had  their  very  braines  dasht  out, 

and  others  more  were  found 
With  mangled  legs,  and  broken  limbs, 

and  most  of  them  were  slaine. 
Which  did  belong  to  Dunkerk, 

and  to  the  King  of  Spaine, 

1 1  And  as  it  was  reported, 

the  Spaniards  wanting  shot, 
They  let  flye  gold  and  silver  store, 
out  of  their  Ordinance  hot. 



And  much  there  was  thrown  overboord, 
which  will  nere  be  found  againe, 

This  misery  was  then 

amongst  the  ships  of  Spaine. 

12  And  being  thus  distressed, 

their  men  with  fighting  tired, 
Some  kil'd,  some  maim'd,  some  shot,  som 

and  some  on  ship-boord  fired,^ 
The  remnant  that  remained, 

no  longer  could  maintaine,^ 
The  fight  wherefore  I  thinke, 

that  they  wish  themselves  in  Spaine. 

1 3  But  to  conclude  my  Ditty, 

I  thinke  there  have  not  beene. 
Since  eighty  eight,  the  like  sea  fight, 

neere  unto  England  seene. 
The  Lord  preserve  our  gracious  King, 

and  send  him  long  to  raigne^, 
In  health,  and  wealth,  and  peace, 

Gods  Gospel  to  maintaine. 


London  Printed  for  Samuel  Rand  on  Holborne  Bridge. 
^  Text  has  a  period.  ^  Text  ragine. 



Index  of 
'Titles^  First  Lines ^  and  'Tunes 

Tunes  are  printed  in  italics.  Titles  and  first  lines  are  printed  in  roman 
type;  the  former  are  enclosed  in  quotation  marks.  An  asterisk  (*)  indicates 
that  the  ballad  in  question  is  merely  referred  to  in  the  notes. 


1 66 















212,  *456 

83.  300,  +32,  438 






Alas  what  wretched  bloody  times  . 

All  men  are  inclined  to  follow  their  mind 

All  trades  are  not  alike  in  show 

All  you  good  fellows  who  love  strong  beer 

All  you  that  are  brave  sailors 

All  you  that  Christians  be 

All  you  that  desirous  are  to  behold 

All  you  that  valiant  fellows  be 

All  you  young  men  who  would  marry 

Angel  Gabriel,  The 
"Anne  Wallen's  Lamentation  " 
"Arraignment  of  John  Flodder,  The" 

As  I  was  walking  of  late    . 

As  I  went  to  Walsingham 

As  I  went  to  Walsingham . 

As  late  I  walked  the  meads  along  . 

Away  away  make  no  delay 
*  "Back  and  the  Belly,  The" 
"Back's  Complaint  For  Belly's  Wrong,  The 
"Banquet  For  Sovereign  Husbands,  A" 
"Battle  of  Birds,  A" 

Bessy  Bell 

*  Black  murther  and  adultery 
Blazing  torch,  The 
Bonny  Nell 
Bragandary  {down')  .  .  .  18,  2 or,  2 

*  Brave  Lord  Willoughby     . 

*  Brave  Mars  begins  to  rouse 
Brave  Windham  late  whom  fortune  did  ad 

*"Brazen  Age,  The" 

♦"Bugbear  Black-Monday,  1652"     . 

Bugle  bow 




*  "Bugle  Bow  or  a  Merry  Match  of  Shooting,  The' 
*"Byd  YBigail"      .... 

"Caleb  Shillock's  Prophecy" 
Cannons  are  roaring 
*" Careless  Curate  and  the  Bloody  Butcher,  The" 

*  Carmen's  whistle.  The 
*" Certain  Verses  of  Martin  Parker  Against  Trusting" 

Charles  Rickets  his  lamentation 
"  Charles  Rickets  His  Recantation  " 
"Cheating  Age,  The" 

*  "Choice  of  Inventions,  A"  . 

Clean  contrary  way.  The   . 

*  Codlings  (cf.  Percy  Folio  MS.  Loose  Songs,  p.  82) 
*" Collins  and  the  Devil"      . 

"Collins'  Conceit" 

Come  give  attention  young  and  old 

Come  hither  young  men  and  give  ear 

Come  you  fatal  sisters  three 
"Commendation  of  the  Society  of  the  Porters" 
"Common  Cries  of  London  Town,  The"    . 

*  "  Complaint  of  Sir  Francis  Michell,  The  "    . 

Conceits  of  sundry  sorts  there  are  . 

*  "  Constant  Wife  and  a  Kind  Wife,  A" 
"  Country  New  Jig,  A" 

Courteous  kind  gallants  all    . 
"Cries  of  the  Dead,  The"  . 
"Cucking  of  a  Scold,  The" 
"Cunning  Age,  The" 

*  Dainty  come  thou  to  me 
"Damnable  Practises  of  Three  Lincolnshire  Witches' 

*" Daughter's  Complaint,  The" 
Day  will  come  shall  pay  for  all,  A 

*  "  Dening  a  Poor  Man  and  a  Loaf  of  Bread  "  . 
"Description  of  a  Strange  and  Miraculous  Fish,  A" 

*"  Description  of  Wanton  Women,  A" 
"Deserved  Downfall  of  a  Corrupted  Conscience,  The" 

*  Did  you  see  Nan  to-day      .... 
"Dream  of  a  Sinner,  A  Comfortable  New  Ballad  of; 

Drive  the  cold  winter  away 

Dulcina  .... 

*" England's  Monthly  Predictions"    . 
*" Essex  Man  Cozened,  The" 

"Every  Man's  Condition" 
♦"Excellent  Ditty  Both  Merry  and  Witty,  An" 

*  "  Fair  Widow  of  Watling  Street,  The  " 

Falero  lero  lo        . 









49  zf. 














,,  222 






78  n. 





"  Famous  Rat-catcher,  The  " 
♦"Famous  Sea-Fight,  A"       . 
"Father  Hath  Beguiled  the  Son,  The" 

*  Flora  farewell 
Fly  brass 
Flying  fame 

"Fool's  Bolt  Is  Soon  Shot,  A" 
*" Forlorn  Lover,  The" 

Fortune  my  foe     . 
"Fourpence  Halfpenny  Farthing"  . 

France  that  is  so  famous    . 
"Francis' New  Jig" 
"Frenchmen's  Wonder,  The" 

From  India  land  such  news  I  have 

From  old  famous  Lincoln  that's  seated  so  high 

Gallants  come  away 
"Gallants  To  Bohemia"     . 
*" Give  ear  you  lusty  gallants 

Go  from  my  window  (cf.  Popular  Music,  i,  140) 

Golden  age.  The   . 
*  "  Goodfellow's  Advice,  The  " 
"Goodfellow's  Complaint  Against  Strong  Beer,  A" 

Good  fellows  all  to  you  I  send 

Goodmorrow  kind  gossip  why  whither  so  fast 
"Good  Throw  For  Three  Maidenheads,  A" 

Great  God  that  sees  all  things  that  here  are  done 
*" Great  Turk's  Terrible  Challenge,  The" 

Hark  man  what  I  thy  God  shall  speak 
"He-Devil,  A"       . 

He  runs  far  that  ne'er  returneth     . 

Health  to  Betty,  A 

Hemp  and  flax 

*  Here  sits  a  jovial  tinker 
Here  we  are  good  fellows  all 

*"  Hero  and  Leander  " 

"History  of  the  Prophet  Jonas,  The" 
*"Hold  Your  Hands  Honest  Men" 
"Honest  Age,  The" 
"Honest  Plain-Dealing  Porter,  The" 

How  shall  we  good  husband  live 

Humming  of  the  drone.  The 

I  can  nor  will  no  longer  lie  alone 
*I  have  for  all  good  wives  a  song 

I  often  have  known  and  experience  hath  shown 
"I  Tell  You  John  Jarret  You'll  Break" 

/  will  give  thee  kisses  one  two  or  three 










5,84,  156 
















60  n. 





78,  132 


78,  132 



If  woful  objects  may  excite 
/'//  beat  my  wife  no  more   . 
I'll  never  love  thee  more 
In  Edinburgh  behold 

*  In  every  place  where  men  did  meet 
In  slumbering  sleep 
In  slumbering  sleep  I  lay 
In  summer  time     . 

*  In  summer  time  when  Phoebus'  rays 
In  the  days  of  old 

*"Iron  Age,  The"   . 
"It  Is  Bad  Jesting  With  a  Halter"    . 
It  was  a  young  knight  born  in  the  west 
It  was  my  chance  of  late    . 
Jasper  Coningham 
"Jewish  dance.  The 

*  Joan's  ale  is  new 
"John  Spenser  a  Cheshire  Gallant" 

*  "Jonas"     .... 

Jovial  tinker.  The 

*  "Jovial  Tinker,  A  Pleasant  New  Song  of  a" 
"Joyful  Peace  Concluded  Between  Denmark  and  Sweden,  The 
"Judgment  of  Solomon,  The  " 

*"Keep  a  Good  Tongue  In  Your  Head" 
Kindhearted  men  a  while  give  ear 
"Knavery  In  All  Trades"   . 

Lady's  fall.  The   .  .  .  .96,110,124, 

"Lamentable  Burning  of  Cork,  The" 
"Lamentable  Complaint  of  France" 
*"  Lamentable  Relation  of  a  Fearful  Fight  at  Sea, 

*  "  Lamentation  of  England,  The  "      . 
"  Lamenting  Lady,  The  "     . 

Last  Christmas  'twas  my  chance 
"  Leander's  Love  To  Loyal  Hero  "  . 

*  "  Lesson  For  All  True  Christians,  A" 

Let  us  to  the  wars  again     .  .  .  .   *i62. 

Let  young  men  give  ear     . 
"Life  and  Death  of  Mr  George  Sandys,  Th 

Like  to  a  dying  swan 

List  Christians  all  unto  my  song 
"  Long  Runs  That  Ne'er  Turns  "      . 
"  Looking-Glass  For  Corn-Hoarders,  A" 

Lord  of  Hosts  hath  blessed  no  land.  The 

*  Love's  tide 

*  "  Love's  Up  To  the  Elbows  " 

*  Lover's  dream.  The 


















49  w. 













*" Lover's  Lamentation  To  His  Love  Nancy,  The" 
MaU's  ABC,  The 

*  "  Maiden  Monster,  A"         . 
*"  Maiden's  Lamentation  For  a  Bedfellow,  A" 

Maidens  of  London  are  now  in  despair,  The 
Margaret  my  sweetest  Margaret  I  must  go 
Mark  well  God's  wondrous  works  and  see 
*Martin  Parker's  medley 
Maun  ding  soldier.  The 

*  Maying  time 
Merchant  of  Emden,  The 
Merchantman,  The 

*  "  Merry  Dialogue  Betwixt  a  Married  Man  and  His  Wife,  A' 
"  Merry  New  Catch  of  All  Trades,  A" 
"Merry  Round,  A" 

Methinks  I  hear  a  groan  of  death  and  deadly  dole 

*  "  Misdeeds  of  Jonas,  The  " 
"Monstrous  Shape  or  a  Shapeless  Monster,  A" 

*  Mother  beguiled  the  daughter, The    . 
"Murder  upon  Murder"    . 
"Murther  Unmasked" 
*My  bleeding  heart 
*My  husband  is  a  carpenter 

My  masters  all  attend  you 

*  My  mind  to  me  a  kingdom  is 
Ned  Smith  .... 
Neighbours  cease  to  moan 

*"New  Exchange,  The"       . 

"New  Spanish  Tragedy,  A" 

"New- Year's  Gift  For  the  Pope,  A" 

"News  From  Holland's  Leaguer"    . 
*" News  From  Newcastle"    . 

"News  From  the  Tower  Hill" 

"News  Good  and  New  Too  Good  To  Be  True" 

"News  Out  of  East  India" 

"No  Natural  Mother  But  a  Monster" 

"Nobody  His  Counsel  To  Choose  a  Wife" 
*"Nobody  Loves  Me" 

*  "  Northamptonshire  Lover,  The  " 

North-country  lass.  The 
»"Now  Have  With  Ye  To  Nineveh" 
Now  welcome  neighbour  Rowland 
*"Nut-Brown  Maid,  The"  . 
*0  folly  desperate  folly 

O  mine  own  sweet  heart    . 
*0  neighbour  Robert 

R.  P.G. 



78  n. 


78,  132 


















78  n. 









O  no  no  no  not  yet 
*0  Roundheads  desperate  Roundheads 
Of  damned  deeds  and  deadly  dole 
Of  horned  Vulcan  I  have  heard     . 
Of  many  marvels  in  my  time 
Of  wonders  strange  that  was 

*  Oil  of  care.  The    .... 
On  midsummer  day  I  chanced  to  go 
One  morning  bright  for  my  delight 
Over  and  under     .  .  .  . 
Paggin ton's  round  {Packington's  found') 

"Passing  Bell  Tolling  To  Call  Us  To  Mind,  A" 
"  Pedlar  Opening  of  His  Pack,  The  " 
"Peg  and  Kate"     . 

*  Permit  me  friends 
"Pig-Faced  Lady,  The"     . 

♦"Pinning  of  the  Basket,  The' 
"  Pleasant  New  Ballad  Both  Merry  and  Witty,  A" 

*  "  Pleasant  Song  Made  By  a  Soldier,  A" 

*  "  Poor  Man  Pays  For  All,  The  "      . 
"Post  of  Ware,  The" 

Pray  gentle  John  Jarret  give  ear  to  my  words 
Pretty  jest  I'll  tell,  A  . 

"Prophecy  of  the  Judgment  Day,  A" 
"  Proverb  Old  Yet  Ne'er  Forgot,  A" 
*"Quip  For  a  Scornful  Lass,  A" 

Ragged  and  torn  and  true    . 
*" Rat-catcher's  Daughter,  The" 
Regard  my  grief  kind  ladies  all 
*"Rich  Widow's  Wooing,  A  Merry  New  Song  of  a" 
"Rochelle  Her  Yielding  To  the  French  King" 
*Rock  the  cradle  {sweet)  John 

"Round  Boys  Indeed" 
Shackley  hay 
Shall  I  wrestle  in  despair 
She-devil,  The     . 

*  "  She-Devil  of  Westminster, 

Shore's  wife 
♦"Silver  Age,  The" 
*Sir  Andrew  Barton 
"  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  Lamentation  " 
"  Soldier's  Farewell  To  His  Love,  The  " 

*  "  Son  Beguiles  the  Father,  The  "       . 

*  Southampton 










78  n. 



















Spanish  pavin.  The 
Stand  wide  my  masters  and  take  heed 
"Statute  For  Swearers  and  Drunkards,  A"     . 
*Story  I'm  going  to  tell  ye,  A 
*"  Strange  Relation  of  a  Female  Monster,  A" 
*"Swine's-Faced  Gentlewoman,  A  new  Ballad  of  the' 
*TarItons  medley    .... 
There  was  a  ewe  had  three  lambs    . 

*  There  was  a  jovial  tinker 
There  was  a  rare  rat-catcher 

"This  Maid  Would  Give  Ten  Shillings  For  a  Kiss" 
Thomas  you  cannot 
Three  jovial  sparks  together 
Three  maids  did  make  a  meeting    . 

*  "Three  Slips  For  a  Teston" 

Thrice  blessed  is  that  land 
"'Tis  Not  Otherwise" 

To  Caleb  Shillock's  prophecy 

To  England  comes  strange  tidings 
*Tom  of  Bedlam     .... 
"Tragedy  of  Doctor  Lamb,  The"    . 

Triumph  and  joy   .... 
"Turner's  Dish  of  Lenten  Stuff"      . 

*  "  Turner's  Dish  of  Wagtails  " 

*  "Turner's  Dream  of  Sym  Subtle"    . 

*  "Turner's  Pilgrimage  To  the  Land  of  Iniquity" 
♦"Turtle  Dove,  The" 

*  "Twenty-Five  Orders  of  Fools,  The" 

Twenty  pound  a  year 

Two  famous  lovers  once  there  was 

*  Two  lovely  lovers.  The 

*"Two  Monstrous  Births  In  Devon  and  Plymouth" 

Two  slips  for  a  tester 
"Two  Welsh  Lovers,  The" 
"Unnatural  Wife,  The"      . 

Unto  the  prophet  Jonas  I  read 

Unto  the  world  to  make  my  moan 

*  Virginia  .... 

*  "Wade's  Reformation" 

Walsingham  .... 

Wanton  wife  of  Westminster,  The  . 
"Warning  For  All  Desperate  Women,  A"     . 

*  "Warning  For  Swearers,  A" 
"Warning  For  Wives,  A"   . 

*"Warning-Piece  For  Engrossers  of  Corn,  A" 
Wat  ton  Town's  end 






60  n. 




















78  n. 



263,  *283 




GG  2 


Wedded  wife  there  was,  A  .  ■    . 

Welladay  .  .  .  . 

"Western  Knight,  The"      . 
When  cafinons  are  roaring 
When  David  over  Israel  had 
When  I  a  maiden  was 
"Whipping  Cheer" 
Who  is  it  will  repair 
Who  list  to  lead  a  soldier's  life 
Who  please  to  hear  such  news  as  are  most  true 
Whoop  do  me  no  harm  good  man 
*"  Wicked  Will's  Sauce  to  Turner's  Dish  of  Wagtails' 
*"WidowofWatling  Street,  The"    . 

Wife  prithee  come  hither  and  sit  thee  down  by  me 
Wigmore's  galliard 
"Wiving  Age,  The" 
Wiving  age.  The  .... 
*" Woman  Monster,  The"    . 

Woman  to  the  plough  and  the  man  to  the  hen-roost 
"Wonder  Beyond  Man's  Expectation,  A"     . 
"Wonder  In  Kent,  A" 
*  "  Wonder  of  These  Times,  A" 

Wonders  of  the  Lord  are  great,  The 
Ye  noble  Britons  be  no  more 
*  You  justices  and  men  of  might 
You  poets  that  write  of  the  ages  that's  past  . 
You  that  desire  news 
You  that  in  wicked  ways  long  time 
You  that  true  Christians  be 
You  who  have  been  rich  heretofore 
You  young  men  all  take  pity  on  me 
Young  man  lately  did  complain,  A 
Your  zarvant  all  round  and  you  zee  I  be  here 

89,  104, 





189,  400 
























Gloss arial  Index 

The  references  are  to  pages.    Numbers  in  parentheses  refer  to  stanzas. 

a,  prefix  (or  preposition)  with  parti- 
ciples, 7  (14),  374(13) 

abiding,  an,  dwelling-place,  91  (9) 

Abides  (Abydos),  50  (2) 

aboute,  to  have,  i.e.  a  bout,  a  con- 
tinued fit  of  drinking,  447  (12) 

Actaeon,  452  (i);  Actaeon's  plumes, 
the  horns  of  cuckoldry,  319  (9) 

Acton,  Cheshire,  257  (2) 

actors,  I,  30,  35  (15) 

admire,  to,  wonder,  130  (17) 

admirable,  wonderful,  343 

admittance,  permissionto  enter,  402  (7) 

a  drie  (adry),  thirsty,  447  (13) 

adventure,  upon,  by  chance,  296  (6) 

afeard,  149  (13) 

affect,  to,  love,  52  (9),  79  (l),  306  (4), 
402  (5) 

affended,  variant  of  offended,  37  (24) 

against,  in  anticipation  of  or  prepara- 
tion for,  209  (7),  358  (9) 

Agas,  Robert  and  Steven,  59 

ages,  ballads  on  the  gold,  silver,  and 
other,  234  ff.;  the  honest,  406 

alayd  (allayed),  mingled  with  water, 
etc.,  119  (17) 

alegrains,  refuse  malt  left  after  brew- 
ing. 349(18) 

Algate  (Aldgate),  London,  377  (2) 

all  and  some,  176  (2) 

alle,  awl,  445  (5) 

ambling  nag,  an,  73  (2) 

Amboyna,  the  massacre  at,  200 

America,  the  tallest  man  in  (Eugene 
Arcean),  342 

amisse,  an,  misdeed,  56  (8) 

anatomies,  bodies  of  criminals  pre- 
served as,  43 1 

angel,   an,    old    English   coin    worth 

about  10/.,  237  (11),  338  (3) 
Angouleme    (Angolsem,    AngoUera), 

24,  27 
Anne  of  Denmark,  Queen  of  James  I, 

16  (19),  23  (24),  109  (16) 
annoy,  annoyance,  186  (5) 
Anthropos,    Atropos,    81    (10).      See 

fatal  sisters 
ap  ap,  inter j..''  197  (5) 
apes,  to  lead,  in  hell,  132 
Apple-John,  198  (16) 
apprentice,   an,    barbarous   treatment 

of,  222 
aquite,  to,  acquit,  168  (14) 
Arcean,  Eugene.    See  America,  tallest 

man  in 
are,  air,  152  (3) 
Arminian  faction,  followers  of  James 

Arminius    (f  1609),    a   theologian 

opposed   to    Calvin,    especially   on 

predestination,  108  (11) 
Arminians,  the,  a  ballad  against,  104 
arson  at  Wymondham,  Norfolk,  54 
art-tillery,  fig.  for  implements  of  the 

(thieving)  trade,  35  (16) 
Ashton,  John,  60 
a'th,  of  the,  197  (7) 
Atkinson,   Miss,  a  pig-faced  lady  of 

Ireland,  450 
attach,  to,  seize,  lay  hold  of,  53  (14) 
Attowell  (Atwell),  George,  actor  and 

balladist,  i 
Austria,  Archduke  of,  the,    106  (5); 

prodigious  battle  in  the  air  in,  161 
authors    of    ballads.     See    Attowell, 

George;  Brewer,  Thomas;  C,  J.; 

Cart,  John;  Climsal,  Richard;  Col- 



lins;  Cooke,  William;  Culter,  Ed- 
ward; Dickerson,  Thomas;  F.,  T.; 
Guy,  Robert;  H.,  R.;  M.,  W.; 
Meash,  William;  Morg.,  LI.; 
Parker,  Martin;  Platte,  T.;  Post, 
The;  Price,  Laurence;  Rickets, 
Charles;  Rider,  T.;  Turner,  Wil- 

Ayers,  Thomas,  387 

ayery,  aery,  aerial,  153  (13) 

babies,   dolls,    120    (25);   images   of 

saints,  172  (6) 
Bacchus'    cheer,    drunkenness,     187 

(8);   —  soldier's,  drunkards,   169 

bachelor  (batchelor),  used  of  a  maiden, 

243  (17) 

baily,  bailiff,  a,  officer  of  justice  under 
a  sheriff,  219  (9) 

bait,  a,  snare,  trap,  377  (5),  433  (7), 
etc.;  fig.,  unlawful  carnal  inter- 
course, 62  (7  ff.) 

Baker,  Sir  Richard,  144 

ballads,  long  titles  of,  for  advertising 
purposes,  161;  mechanical  division 
into  two  parts,  reason  for,  78;  sum- 
marized from  news-pamphlets,  17, 
24.  44»  54  (0»  96*  iio»  206,  276, 

293»  342,  399'  442»  45  5-  ^^^ 
authors,  printers 

ballad-singer,  a,  243  (19);  arrest  of, 


ballet,  a,  ballad,  34  (14),  82  (19) 

band,  a,  bond,  agreement,  r88  (13), 

bankerout,  a,  bankrupt,  337 
Bankside,   the,    35    (15),    399.     See 

bar-boy,  a,  246  (15) 
barley,  beer,  422  (8) 
barley-broth,  strong  ale,  447  (12) 
Barneveld,  John  of,  104 
bast(e),  to,  beat,  thrash,  319  (10) 
bate,  to,  diminish,  142  (6) 
bayle  (bale),  torment,  woe,  102  (22) 
beams,  the,  balance  of  scales,  36  (19) 


beans,  to  feed  on,  i.e.  on  poor  food 

(cf.  'not  worth  a  bean'),  341  (20) 
bear  the  bell,  to,  surpass,  be  first,  37 

(22),  184(20),  453  (7) 
bearing-trade,  the,  of  a  porter,  15  (13) 
bearward,   a,   keeper,   or  trainer,   of 

bears,  197  (9),  274  (10) 
beast,  to  make  one  a,  i.e.  a  cuckold, 

268  (12) 
beer,  complaint  against,  a,  361 
beetles,  implements  for  beating  flax, 

39' 41  (7)' 43  (16,  18) 
beheading,  the,  of  Raleigh,  89 
beknack,   to,   adorn   with   knacks   or 

pretty  trifles,  119  (20) 
belle,  a,  265  (6) 
Bellona,  goddess  of  war,  402  (6) 
belly,  the,  and  the   back,   a    ballad, 

belly  cheer,  gluttony,  luxurious  food, 

188(12),  344(1) 
belly-gods,  gluttons,  186  (6) 
Belvoir  Castle,  witches  at,  97 
bend  the  ears,  to,  listen,  224  (6) 
benefit  of  clergy,  191  ^. 
Beomont,  John,  206 
beraid,  see  bewray 
Bergen  op  Zoom,  104 
Bewdly,  404  (13  f.) 
bewray,  to,  disclose,  make  known,  348 

Bible,  the,  and  the  Pope,  171 ;  ballads 

taken  from,  66,  350 

Bicks  (Bix),  Margaret,  alias  Elvyn,  54 

bill'd,  entered,  enrolled,  178  (16) 

billing,  love-making  (as  of  birds),  378 

Billingsgate,  London,  338  (4) 
birds,  wonderful  battles  of,  ballads  on, 

150,  161 
birth,  a  wonderful,  of  365  children, 

Bishopsgate,  London,  244 
Black  Kate,  a  wench,  338  (4) 
blacking-man,  a,  cry  of,  34  (13) 
blade,  a,  good  fellow,  roisterer,  61  (i) 
blessing,  a,  i.e.  a  curse,  32(5) 


blind  alehouse,  a,  obscure,  out  of  the 
way(?),  340(13) 

Blomefield,  Francis,  History  of  Nor- 
folk, 54 

blood  used  to  seal  a  contract  with 
Satan,  100  (i  i) 

blot,  disgrace,  blemish,  49  (i) 

Boas,  F.  S.,  200 

bodge,  a,  measure,  about  half  a  peck, 


bodkin,  a,  pin-ornament  for  the  hair, 

Bodwin  the  Great,  Wilts.,  310  (2) 
Boetius,  22  (20) 

Bohemia,  wars  in,  the,  ballad  on,  415 
bone  lace,  119  (21) 
bony,  bonny,  32  (7) 
book,  your,  benefit  of  clergy,  190  ff.; 

to  swear  on  a  — ,  242  (15) 
boord   (board),   a,   table,    246   (11), 

337  (0 
Boore  (Boer),  a,  German  or  Dutch- 
man, 141  (4),  151,  452  (5) 
boothe,  a,  temporary  shelter,  71  (17) 
booty,  a,  plunder,  spoil,  35  (17) 
bottom  of  thread,  a,  ball  or  skein  of 

thread,  272  (4) 
Boughton,  Norfolk,  corn-hoarder  pun- 
ished at,  a,  370 
Bouton,  Archibald  Lewis,  122 
bowler,  a,  player  at  bowls,  274  (8) 
bowzer,  a,  bouser,  drunkard,  63  (11) 
Bradley,  Mary  Hastings,  132 
Brainford,  see  Brentford 
brangling,  to   be,   wrangling,   squab- 
bling, 317  (2) 
brave,  handsomely  dressed,   135  (8), 
174  (8),  210  (16);  insolent,  374 
(ri);  fine,  beautiful,  55  (i),  etc. 
brawn,  boar's  flesh,  142  (7),  345  (5) 
breach  of  the  brains,  i.e.  injury  to,  167 


break,  to,  become  bankrupt,  337  ff. 
breeding  debate,  a,  one  who  causes 

strife,  267  (10) 
Brentford  (Brainford),  339  (8),  425 
Brewer,  Thomas,  ballad  by,  1 1 

bride-posset,  a,  235  (4) 
Bridewell,  the,  house  of  detention  in 
St  Bride's  parish,  London,  39,  220 
(13);  the,  in  Tothill  Fields,  >  41  (9), 
143  (8).   See  spittle 
Brill,  Brielle,  104 
Brinckmair,  Captain  L.,  151 
Bristow  (Bristol),  63  (12),  305 
brittle  ware,  fig.  for  delicate  matters, 

broke,  to  be,  ruined  financially,  242 

brokers,  pawnbrokers,  37  (22),  219 

(8),  319(10),  407(3) 
broom-man,  a,  cry  of,  33  (9) 
brothel,  Mrs  Holland's,  399 
Browne,  Robert,  206 
bruted,  bruited,  279  (4) 
Buckingham,  Duke  of  (George  Vil- 

liers),  96,  276,  293 
Buckinghamshire,    John    Russell    of, 

punishment  of,  the,  370 
budget,  a,  wallet,  bag,  34  (14);  — 

maker,  198  (13) 
bulls'    pizzles    used    as    riding    rods, 

441  (12) 
Bullen,  A.  H.,  104 
bum,  the  buttocks,  32  (4) 
Burford,  Cheshire,  257 
burning  of  Cork,  155;  of  Wymond- 

ham,  54 
burning  alive  as  a  punishment,   84, 

283,  288,  299 
burning,  by  candles,  as  a  punishment, 

burnt  claret,  'made  hot'  {N.E.D.,  5), 

bushop,  a,  bishop,  28  (11) 
buske,  a,?  corset-stays,  118  (13) 
buskins,  33  (9) 
butterflies,    milk-white,    alight    on    a 

corpse,  256 

C,  J.,  ballad  by,  239 
C,  R.,  see  Climsal,  Richard 
cabbage  leaves,  to  live  on,  :.e.  poorly, 
412  (7) 



Cage,  the,  a  prison,  75  (9),  245  (8) 

Cales,  Cadiz,  119  (20) 

Camden     (Cambden),     Oxfordshire, 

421  (5) 
came,  i.e.  to  be  born,  246  (13) 

camphyre,  camphor,  119  (17) 

Canbury  Bess,  431 

Candish,  i.e.  Thomas  Cavendish,  free- 
booter, 4 1 8  (9) 

candles,  lighting  the  wrong  ends  of, 
207;  use  of,  for  torture,  204  (13) 

cant,  to,  use  the  jargon,  or  cant,  of,  63 

cantharies,  cantharides,  an  aphrodisiac, 

card,  i.e.  cared,  55  (5),  261  (17),  etc. 
card,  a,  chart,  map,  416  (3) 
cards,  playing,  42  (13),  43  (i  7) 
careless  band,  a,  neck-band  or  shirt 

collar  (used  of  a  rope),  397  (8  f.) 
cargo!   See  kergo 
carking,  fretting  for,  266  (7) 
carles,  churls,  188  (12) 
Carleton,  Sir  Dudley,  84,  248,  249 
carman,  a,  carter,  272  (5) 
Carre,  Robert,  59 
carry-tales,  182  (14) 
Cart,  John,  ballad  by,  239 
Cartwright,  William,  124 
casheere  (cashier),  to,  put  aside,  give 

up,  422  (7) 
cast,  to  be,  condemned,  91  (9),  226 

(12),  291  (10) 
cast,  a,  throw  (of  dice),  247  (16),  (of 

bowls)  274  (8) 
cat,  a  game,  tip-cat,  37  (25) 
cat  and  dog,  to  live  like,  301  ( 3 ) 
cater,  four  (of  dice),  383  (7  f.) 
cates,  dainties,  294  (3) 
cattle,  possessions,  452  (4);  live-stock, 

100  (12) 
caudles,  a  kind  of  hot  drink,  136  (10), 

cauillera,  cavaliero,  roistering  gallant, 

401  (3) 
caule,  the,  fatty  membrane  investing 
the  intestines,  87  (15) 

ceases,  puts  an  end  to  (of  death),  321 

chalk,  to  be  in,  see  score 
Chamberlain,  John,  84,  89,  249 
charity,  kindness,  love,  359  (11) 
Charles  I,  King  of  England,  276,  293, 
425,  455;  referred  to  in  ballads, 
292  (16),  297  (8),  348  (17),  459 

Charles  IX,  King  of  Sweden,  44 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey,  proverbs  in,  229; 

Wife  of  Bath's  Tale,  analogues  of, 

Cheapside,  London,  278 

Cheshire,  257,  438 

Chester  Castle,  260 

Child,  Francis  James,  121,  132,  173, 

child-murder,  ballad  on,  425 

children,  365  at  one  birth,  121 

chimney-nosed,  246  (13) 

chimney-sweep,  a,  description  of,  37 

chink,  coin,  money,  447  (11) 

Christ  Church,  London,  porters  meet 

at,  15  (16) 
Christian  IV,  King  of  Denmark,  44 
church,  refusal  to  attend,  indictments 

for,  248;  women's  actions  at,  265 

Cibber,  Colley,  132 

cinque,  five  (of  dice),  383  (7) 

Cinque  Ports,  the,  Dover,  Sandwich, 

Hythe,  Romney,  Hastings,  59 
cipres,  cypress,  118  (10) 
clap  in  a  cage,  to,  imprison,  75  (9) 
Clark,  Andrew,  The  Shirburn  Ballads, 

I,  60,  316,  342 
Clarke,  Alice,  murders  her  husband, 

Clarke,  John,  206 
Claxton,  Lieut.  Thomas,  murder  of, 

Cler  ken  well  Green,  300 

Clesby,  Humphrey,  54 

client,  a,  customer,  40  (3);  a  lawyer's, 




Climsal,   Richard,    277,   343;   ballad 

.by,  349 
clip,  to,  embrace,  231  (6) 
close    stool,    a,    chamber    utensil    en- 
closed in  a  box  or  stool,  33  (8  f.), 
209  (10) 
coals,  selling  of,  cries  in,  36  (20) 
Cock,  the,  an  alehouse,  335  (13) 
cocker,  to,  indulge,  coddle,  247  (19) 
cog,  to,  deceive,  cheat,  188  (14),  345 


Cole,  Lucy,  hanged,  299 

coll,  to,  embrace,  231  (6),  264  (2) 

Collier,  John  Payne,  30,  49  n.,  161 

Collins,  a  ballad  by  one,  179 

Collins,  Edward,  206 

collogue,  to,  speak  flatteringly  or  de- 
ceitfully, 63  (10) 

colour,  to  excuse,  8  (18) 

Colson,  Samuel,  206 

comans,  commons,  unenclosed  land, 
36  (20) 

comfortable,  comforting,  42,  etc. 

commissioners.  Earl  Marshals,  the, 

common,  commonly,  often,  64  (14), 

compass,  to  keep,  i.e.  within  compass 

or  in  moderation,  166  (i),  168(15) 
complection,   79   (3);   i.e.  cosmetics, 

complement,     knowledge     of    social 

forms,  209  (10) 
comsumeth,  misprint  in  the  original 

text  for  consumeth,  167  (6) 
conceits,   fanciful  notions,   whimseys, 

condescend,    to,    agree  to,  obey,    14 

conjuring,  the,  of  Dr  Lamb,  278 
conneyes  (conies),  rabbits,  346  (8) 
constable,  a,  74  (7),  77  (16),  142  (6), 

194(8),  etc. 
conycatch,  to,  dupe,  cheat,  412  (6) 
Cooke,  William,  ballad  by,  244 
copen,  to,    ?  cope,  buy  and  sell,  ex- 
change, 117  (3) 

copesmate    (copemate),    chapman, 

dealer,  433  (5) 
Cork,  Munster,  battle  of  birds  over, 

I  50;  burning  of,  in  1622,  155 
corn,  one,  i.e.  one  grain,  374  (11) 
corn-hoarders,  a  warning  to,  370 
Coryate,  Thomas,  1 2 1  fF. 
cosse,  the,    ?  market,  the  trade,   197 


coster(d)monger,  a,  apple-seller,  fruit- 
erer, 33  (10),  447  (11) 

could,  cold,  32  (7) 

coultstaffe  bore,  a,  on,  I.e.  borne,  or 
ridden,  on  a  cowlstaif,  a  pole  or 
staff  for  carrying  burdens,  14  (9) 

Counter  (Compter),  the,  in  the  Poultry 
and  in  Wood  Street,  London,  two 
debtors'  prisons,  221  (15),  278 

Country  Tom,  43 1 

course,  coarse,  389  (10) 

Cowcross,  London,  299,  301  (3) 

Cow  Lane,  London,  85 

coxcomb,  a  fool's,  319  (8) 

cozen,  to,  cheat,  deceive,  397  (7),  etc. 

cozens,  cozeners,  32  (6) 

crass  crone,  a,  stupid,  dull,  old  woman, 

237  (14) 
crave,  to,  intrans.  verb,  beg,  127  (7) 

Crawford,   Earl  of,   his   ballads,    30, 

49  z?.,  173,  256 
cries,  street,  of  London,  ballad  on,  30 
crimes.      See     arson,     child-murder, 

murder,   poisoning,    petty  treason, 

rape,  robbery,  whipping 
Crispine,  St  Crispinus,  the  patron  of 

shoemakers,  a  son  of  "the  King  of 

Logria"  (cf  F.  O.  Mann's  Deioney, 

p.  90),  445  (4).  See  St  Hugh 
Cromwell,  Oliver,  189,  200 
crooked  bows,  to  shoot  in,  i.e.  to  live 

evilly,  257  (3) 
crosses,  misfortunes,  13  (3),  199  (21) 
crotchets,  whimsical  tricks  or  actions, 

422  (7) 
Crouch,  Humphrey,  443 
cucking,   punishment  by  ducking  in 

water,  a  ballad  describing,  72 



cuckoldry,  eating  of  a  ram  as  a  sign  of, 

Culter,  Edward,  ballad  by,  166 
Culverwell,  Anthony,  248 
Cumberland,  Earl  of,  417  (7) 
curmudgeon  (curmugin),   210   (14), 

339(11)  . 
current,  flowing,  50  (3) 

cursed  crew,  the,  cant  name  for  roaring 

boys,  446  (8) 

cutpurse  boys,  43  (16) 

damded,  damned,  58  (22) 
damsons,  plums,  345  (5) 
date,  a ,  the  period  of  gestation,  427  (7) 
David,  King,  of  Israel,  350  f. 
Davies  (Davis),  Alice  and  Henry,  283, 

288,  299 
Dawes,  John,  387 
dead  lift,  a,  extremity  or  emergency, 

267  (9) 
Deal,  Kent,  457  (6) 
debosht,  variant  of  debauched,  191  (2) 
decay,  ruin,  55  (3),  etc. 
decoys,  swindlers,  43  (17),  247  (19), 

Dee  River,  213  (3) 
defame,  evil,  unchastity,  127  (8) 
degrading  a  knight  in  public,  ballad 

on,  144 
Dekker,  Thomas,  24,  39,  270,  376 
Deloney,  Thomas,  72,  256 
denay,  to,  deny,  80  (7),  307  (19) 
Dening,  a  poor  man,  370 
Denmark,   peace  of,  in    161 3,   with 

Sweden,   44;    King  of,   t.e.   Gus- 

tavus    Adolphus,    418    (12).     See 

Christian  IV 
denoted,   to    be,   distinguished    by   a 

mark  or  sign,  42 1  (4) 
depart,  to,  die,  282  (23) 
Derbyshire,  54 
Devil,   the,    and    Master    Inglebred, 

370;  and  three  witches,  99  (10  f.) 
devil  a  word,  the,  242  (14);  what  a 

(the)— ,  237(11) 
dewce  (deuce),  two  (of  dice),  383  (7) 

dice,  33  (10),  42  (13),  43  (17),  183 

(17),  246  (15  ff.);  ballad  on  three 

maidenheads  lost  at,  380 
Dickerson,  Thomas,  ballad  by,  256 
diet,  a,  treatment,  77  (18),  136  (11), 

dildo  dill,  a  refrain,  117  (9) 
diligence,  }  the  Devil's  coach,  or  some 

other  means  of  conveyance,  99  (lo) 
dints,  blows,  47  (6) 
discasting,  casting  off,  195  (10) 
dish-clout,  a,  cloth  for  washing  dishes, 

.73  (4) 
Dives,  the  rich  man,  187  (8) 

dodge,  to,  play  fast  and  loose  with, 

31  (3) 
DoiFeelde,  John,  59 

dogged,  crabbed,  spiteful,  333  (3) 

dole,  distress,  sorrow,  97  (i),  etc. 

Dole,  France,  i6i 

dolphin,  the,  dauphin,  26  (4),  28(12), 

doomsday,  the,  ballads  on,  no,  176 

Dordrecht  (Dort),  Holland,  121 

double  colours,  to  display,  .-'  to  cozen, 

to  make  a  false  show,  43  (19) 

doubt,  to  make  no,  have  no  fear,  171 

Douce,  Francis,  176 

Dover,  Kent,  457  (6) 

doves,  milk-white,  alight  on  a  corpse, 

drabbing,  associating  with  drabs,  or 

harlots,  191  (2) 
draggle-tail,  a,  dirty,  untidy  (used  of 

a  slut),  32  (4)  _ 
Drake,  Sir  Francis,  417  (7) 
draw,  to,  on  a  hurdle,  303  (14) 
draw-well,  a,  deep  well  from  which 

water  is  drawn   up   by  a   bucket, 

drencht,  drowned,  108  (11) 

dressings,  apparel,  208  (4) 

drest,  made  ready,  prepared,  334  (8) 

drink,  ballads  against,  166,  189,  337, 

361,  420 

droyling,  drudging,  slaving,  335  (10) 



drunk  as  rats,  63  (11) 

drunkenness,  statute  of  James  I  against, 

189.    (Si?^  drink 
dry  money,  hard   cash,  actual  coin, 

247  (16) 
Dryden,  John,  200 
Due  gwin,  212 
dumbness  strangely  sent  as  a  warning 

from  God,  96 
Dunkirk,  France,  458  (10) 
dure,  to,  endure,  last,  120  (24) 
Dutch,  i.e.  German,  44,  48 
Dutch,  the,  and  the  massacre  at  Am- 

boyna,  200 
Dutchland,  Holland,  452  (4) 
Dyer,  Sir  Edward,  176 

eare,  e'er,  112  (6) 

Earl  Marshals'  commissioners,  144 

earnest,  money  paid  as  an  instalment 

of  a  bargain,  422  (8) 
earthquake  predicted,  22  (19) 
eat  one's  words,  to,  334  (9) 
eaters,  marvellous,  342 
Ebsv/orth,  Joseph  Woodfall,  30,  60, 

1 16,  207,  450 
eel,  nimble  as  an,  73  (2) 
eflfeminacy  of  Englishmen  complained 

of,  413  (10) 
effeminate,  womanly  (in  a  good  sense), 

eight}'  eight,  i.e.  1588,  the  year  of  the 

Armada,  459  (13) 
either,  both,  242  (i  i);  each  (of  three), 

381  (4) 
eke  also,  43  5  (i  5) 
Elizabeth,  Princess  Royal  of  England, 

Elizabeth,  Queen  of  England,  90  (4) 
Elsbach,  47  (9) 

Elvyn,  Margaret,  alias  Bicks  (Bix),  54 
engrosser  of  corn,  an,  his  punishment, 

engrossing,  buying  up  wholesale  for 

hoarding,  complained  of,  412  (5) 

enjoy,  to,  have  carnal  intercourse  with, 

3  (4  f-).  4  (9)' etc. 

essays,   weights,   balances   (of  scales), 

Essex,  Earl  of  (Robert  Devereux),  89, 

417(7).  425 
Evans,  Elizabeth,  alias  Canbury  Bess, 

Evesham,  422  n. 
exclaims,  exclamations,  166  (3) 
exhilerate,  to,  rejoice,  251  (5) 
eyes,  to  drink  out  one's,  358  (7) 

F.,  S.,  Death  in  a  New  Dress,  443 

F.,  T.,  ballad  by,  316 

fact,  a,  crime,  evil  deed,  57  (17), 
85  (i),  loi  (17),  etc. 

faction,  a,  turbulent  party,  280  (i  i) 

factor,  a,  agent,  deputy,  434  (10) 

faith,  inter j.,  9  (22) 

Fakely,  William,  387 

falling  band,  a,  band  or  collar  worn 
falling  flat  around  the  neck,  1 1 9  ( 1 9) 

fardell,  a,  fardle,  bundle,  117  (3) 

Fardo,  John,  206 

farmers,  hoarding  of  corn  by,  com- 
plained of,  339  (11),  370,  412  (5) 

fatal  sisters,  the  three  (Clotho,  Lachesis, 
Atropos),  40  (i) 

fate,  a,  fatal  influence,  62  (6) 

feat,  suitable,  proper,  ?  118  (13),  397 


featly,  skilfully,  cleverly,  64  (20) 

fee,  gold  or,  7  (15) 

fences,  defences,  403  (9) 

fennel,  192  (4) 

Fernseede,    Anthony   and    Margaret, 

filching  pranks,  thievery,  98  (5) 
filling,  being  filled,  335(13) 
fire,  a,  started  by  lightning,  cannot  be 

quenched,  157  (10).    See  burning 
firing,  fuel,  340  (15) 
Firth,  Charles  Harding,  89,  200 
fish,  a  strange,  description  of,  437 
fishing  vessels,  English,  at  Greenland, 

fish-wife,  a,  and  her  wares,  31  (2) 
fistolles,  fistula,  167  (11) 



fits,  ?  tricks,  deceptions,  247  (19) 
Fitz-Geffrie,  Charles,  370 
flag,  the,  of  a  rat-catcher,  60,  63  (12) 
flamme,  a,  fabrication,  humbug,  328 

flasket,  a,  basket,  274  (10) 

flax,  spinning  of,  in  prison,  39 

fleas,  a  tormentor  for,  37  (25) 

fleath,  flesh,  345  (5) 

Fleay,  Frederick  G.,  30 

fleet,  to,  float,  416  (2) 

Fleetstreet  cheaters,  220  (14) 

fletcher,  a,  arrow-maker,  197  (9) 

Fletcher,  John,  66, 104,200,  212,234 

flie,  to,  flee  from,  23  (23),  67  (2), 
etc.;  fly,  164  (16) 

Fliegen,  Eve,  342 

Flodder,  Ellen  (Helen),  alias  Pendle- 
ton, 54 
,  Flodder,  John  and  William,  54 

Floris,  Earl  of  Holland  and  Zeeland, 

flouts,  jeers,  149  (12) 

Flower,  Joan,  Margaret, and  Phillippa, 
Lincolnshire  witches,  96 

flush,  abundant,  236  (5) 

fool  away,  to,  318  (3) 

fool's  bolt,  a,  3 1 6 

for  why,  because,  31  (3),  157  (10), 
163  (8) 

Forbes,  John,  Cantus,  1 89 

forehead  aches,  i.e.  on  becoming  a 
cuckold,  216  (14) 

forespeak,  to,  predict,  prophecy,  98 
(6),  100  (12) 

forlorn,  lost,  240  (4),  passim 

Fortune  theatre,  the,  277,  280  (10) 

four  crowns  of  Denmark,  i.e.  Green- 
land, Denmark,  Norway,  Nordland, 

fourt,  fourth,  113  (12) 

Foxe,  John,  of  Middlesex  Co.,  robbery 
of,  248 

foyle,  to,  foil,  thrust  with  a  foil,  or 
sword,  198  (16) 

foyle,  a,  foil,  defeat,  46  (3),  402  (6) 

foysters,  cheats  or  sharpers,  43  (15) 

France,  45,  60,  63  (12  fF.),  no,  141 
(4);  battle  of  birds  in,  161;  com- 
plaint of,  for  Henry  IV,  24;  fall  of 
La  Rochelle  in,  293 

Francis,  a  gentleman,  the  jig  of,  i 

Francis,  Katherine  and  Robert,  299 

Frederick  V,  Elector  Palatine,  King 
of  Bohemia,  11,  418  (12) 

free,  to  be,  unreserved,  open,  67  (i) 

Freeman,  Esa,  59 

French,  the,  272  (5);  —  rats,  64  (20), 
venereal  disease;  a  —  salutation,  a 
kiss,  244(3) 

friar,  a,  murders  Henry  IV,  27  (9) 

friend,  a,  lover,  4  (8),  6  (i  3),  7  (i  5), 
9  (20),  53  (15),  216  (15);  used 
of  one's  mother,  378  (17) 

fro,  frow,  Dutchwoman,  452  (5) 

Frobisher,  Sir  Martin,  418  (9) 

fructifie,  to,  298  (8) 

fry,  to,  burn,  88  (20) 

fuddle,  to,  tipple,  get  drunk,  421  (3) 

fulsome,  61  (2),  454  (9) 

furtherer,  a,  58  (25) 

G.,  H.   See  Goodcole,  Henry 

gage,  to,  engage,  58  (25) 

Gallobelgicus,  161 

galymaufery,  a,  gallimaufry,  hodge- 
podge, 30,  31 

Gam,  Randall,  257 

game,  in,  sport,  jest,  422  (8) 

games,  see  cards,  cat,  dice,  mum- 
chance,  nine  holes,  shufile-board, 
spurn  point,  tables 

gaping  after,  to  desire  eagerly,  36  (21) 

Garden-Alleys,  notorious  for  its  bro- 
thels, 41  (5),  220(13) 

Gatehouse,  the,  of  Westminster,  a 
prison,  92  (12) 

gay,  fine,  beautiful,  i  (i),  146  (4),  etc. 

Gent,  Edward,  criminal,  249  fF. 

gentle    craft,    the,    shoemaking,    445 

(5  ff-) 
Germany,  miracle  at  Holdt  in,  316; 

prodigies  in,    151;  Thirty   Years' 

War  in,  415 



getting,  the  act  of  begetting,  266  (7) 

Gilbert,  Sir  Humphrey,  418  (9) 

gipson,  a,  gipsy,  422  (6) 

gipsy,  a,  63  (10) 

girdle,  a,  man  s  belt,  333  (5) 

glaues,  glaives,  arms,  i  52  (6) 

glister,  to,  34(13) 

globes,  crystal  balls,  1 1 7  (9) 

gloves,  witches'  spells  with,  i  o  i  (19) 

go,  to,  walk,  99  (10),  I  57  (i  0»  etc. 

god  wot,  God  knows,  26  (5),  82  (18), 

232  (9),  etc.     ^       .     ^    ^        . 
gold  and  silver,  Spaniards  hre,  trom 

cannon,  458  (11) 
Go/^e?i  Legend,  TAe,\'ji{s) 
golden  thumb,  the,  of  a  thieving  miller, 

Gomorrah,  i  5  5 

gone,  to  be,  used  of  pregnancy,  1 74  (4) 
Goodcole,  Henry,  299,  431 
goodfellow,  a,  agreeable  companion, 

usually  a  tippler,  166,  etc. 
Goodfellow,  Robert,  387 
goodfellowship,  attacks  on,  166,  361, 

good-nights,   last   farewells    in    verse, 

examples  of,  85,  89,  250,  256,  284, 

288,  425 
gospelizing,  107  (9) 
gossips,  a  woman's  female  friends,  266 

got,  begot,  321  (17) 
gould,  gold,  36(21) 
gousell,   to,    guzzle,    drink    greedily, 

government,  treatment,  225  (9) 
Gower,  John,  analogues  to  his  tale  of 

Florent,  449 
grain,  a  scold  in,  i.e.  a  scold  pure  and 

simple,  73  (3) 
Grammatical  Drollery,  207 
grandsire,  a,  324  (5) 
gratis,  245  (7) 
Gray,  Walter  de.  Archbishop  of  York, 

great,  pregnant,  118  (13) 
Great  Britain,  45 

Greene,  Robert,  playwright,  66 
Greene,  Thomas,  actor,  30 
Greenland,  48   (11);  eight  English- 
men marooned  in,  386 
green  sickness,  the,  chlorosis,  64  (17) 
Grey  de  Wilton,  Arthur,  Lord,  417(8) 
Griggs,  William,  206 
Grim  the  Collier,  generic  term,  36  (20) 

Grimeston,  Edward,  121 

griped,   gripped,  clutched,    203    (9), 

groat,  a,  coin  worth  fourpence,  230 

(3).  236(9),  319  (10)' etc. 
gurmandize,    gormandize,    gluttony, 

345  (6) 
Gustavus  Adolphus,  King  of  Sweden, 

guts,  the,  to  stuff,  194  (7) 

gutting,  guzzling,  gormandizing,  346 

Guy,  Robert,  facts  about,  393;  ballad 
by,  394 

H.,  R.,  ballad  by,  212 

hagler,  a,   huckster,  itinerant  dealer, 

197(11)  ^^^     ^ 

hainious,  heinous,  168  (14) 

haire,  hare,  346  (8) 

halter,  a,  danger  of  jesting  with,  393 

hand,  out  of,  immediately,  28  (12), 

hane,  to,  ?  ham,  restrain,  or  perhaps 

hone,  to  sharpen,  31  (2) 
hanging  as  a  legal  punishment,  the,  of 

men,   54,  84,  96,  205  (17),  248, 

256,431;  of  women,  54,  103  (24), 

299,425,431     ^     ,     .  , 

hanging,   danger   of  playing  at,   the, 

folk-lore  of,  393 
hanging  in  chains  after  execution,  57 

(18),  259  (10),  431;  as  a  torture, 

before  execution,  203  (9) 
hangman,  the,  37  (25) 
hansell,  handsel,  reward,  444, 448  ( 1 6) 
haplessest,  79  (i) 
hard,  heard,  385  (12) 
Hardy,  Thomas,  96 



hardly,  energetically,  5  (12) 

harlots,  joke  played  on  two,  376;  two 
before  Solomon,  his  judgment  be- 
tween, 350;  punishment  of,  at 
Bridewell,  39.   See  Holland,  Mrs 

Harrietsham,  Kent,  343  n. 

harrolds,  heralds,  145  (2),  146  (6) 

hartless  (heartless)  place,  i.e.  a  place 
of  death,  259  (11) 

Hatto,  Bishop,  370 

Hawkins,  Sir  John,  418  (9) 

heap,  on  a,  in  a  mass,  153  (10) 

heare,  hair,  117  (8) 

hearings,  herrings,  31  (2) 

heart-string,  a,  28  (10) 

heat,  anger,  8(18);  lust,  6(14),  51(8); 
venereal  disease,  63  (13),  198(1 6) 

Hellen,  i.e.  Helle,  daughter  of  Atha- 
mas,  who  was  drowned  in  the 
Hellespont,  to  which  her  name  was 
given,  53  (13) 

Hellespont,  50  (3) 

hemp,  beating  of,  a  punishment,  39 

Henneberg,  Count  Herman  and  Coun- 
tess Margaret  of,  their  365  chil- 
dren, 121 

Henrietta  Maria,  Queen  of  Charles  I, 
referred  to  in  ballads,  292  (16), 
297  (8) 

Henry  IV,  King  of  France,  murder 
of,  24 

Henry  Frederick,   Prince  of  Wales, 

23  (24),.  30 

Herbert,  Sir  Gerard,  248 

Herbert,  Sir  Henry,  437 

hermaphrodite,  an,  122,  443 

Hero  and  Leander,  49,  66 

herring-hog,  the  grampus,  caught  in 
Cheshire,  442  (15) 

hetroclite,  heteroclite,  eccentric,  fan- 
tastic, 243  (19) 

hewen,  hewed,  148  (9) 

Heywood,  John,  Proverbs,  229,  420 

Hey  wood,  Thomas,  234 

Hicks,  a  criminal,  58  (25) 

Hicks,  Captain  William,  Grammatical 
Drollery,  207 

Hidra  (Hydra),  22  (19) 

hie,  hasten,  33  (i  i),  63  (9),  etc.;  high, 

22  (19),  142  (6),  152  (3).  etc. 
high  day,  a,  solemn  or  festal  day,  280 

hip,  to  be  caught  on  the,  169  (20) 
hobbyhorse,  198  (19) 
hog-faced  gentlewoman,  the,  123,  449 
Hog  Lane,  London,  41(5) 
Holborn,  252  (8),  253  (10) 
Holborn  Fields,  murders  in,  253  (10), 


Holdt,  Germany,  miracle  at,  316 

Holland  and  the  Amboyna  massacre, 
200;  naval  battle  of,  with  Spain, 
in  1639,  455;  pig-faced  lady,  a, 
born  in,  451.   (9^^  Netherlands,  the 

Holland,  Mrs  Elizabeth,  her 
"Leaguer,"  399 

holpen,  helped,  82  (20) 

Holt,  George,  432 

Holt,  Rowland,  431 

honest,  chaste,  3  (7),  10  (23),  142 
(5),  etc.;  honourable,  148  (11) 

honesty,  the  decay  of,  ballad  on,  410 

hook  or  crook,  by,  242  (15) 

hopeful,   causing  or  inspiring   hope, 

79  (I  ff-) 
horns,  to  graft,  on  one's  head,  7  (14); 

to  proffer  one,  8  (18);  to  wear,  37 

(23),  terms  referring  to  cuckoldry 
horned    like   a    beast,   to    be,    i.e.   a 

cuckold,  331  (17) 
horning,  cuckoldry,  335  (11) 
horses  sink  into  the  ground,  370 
Horsnell,  William,  59 
Houndsditch,  London,  36  (22),  436 

howers,  hours,  98  (4),  259  (11) 
Howlbruck,  Derbyshire,  54 
Hudson,  Thomas,  Songs,  166 
Huguenots,  the,  and  La  Rochelle,  293 
hurdle,  a,  sledge  on  which  criminals 

were  drawn  to  the  gallows,  287  (12) 
hymeneal,  356  (i) 

I  marry,  aye,  marry!  348  (16) 



I  wis,  certainly,  indeed,  72  (i),  81 
imbrew,  to,  bathe  in  blood,  102  (20), 

282  (22) 
imp,  a,  child,  29  (14),  130  (17) 
impair,  to,  decrease,  make  less,  142  (8) 
impleated,  filled  full,  42  (13) 
inckle,  inkle,  linen  tape,  119  (20) 
incontinent,  immediately,  395  (4) 
indent,  to,  contract  for,  219  (10) 
India,  the  nut  of,  62  (4);  =  the  East 

Indies,  206  (21) 
Indian,  162,  417  (4,  7) 
Indies,  the  East,  200 
infringe,  to,  destroy,  174  (5) 
Inglebred,   Goodman,   of  Boughton, 

ingrateful,  333  (3) 
ingrosser,  see  engrosser 
intend,  to,  proceed  (on  a  journey), 

Ireland,  45;  a  battle  of  birds  in,  i  50; 

burning  of  Cork  in,  155 
ith,  in  the,  passim 
luely,  July,  287  (12) 

James  I,  King  of  England,  arranges 
peace  between  Denmark  and  Swe- 
den, 45;  letters-patent  of,  to  Wy- 
mondham,  59;  proclamation  of, 
against  Catholics,  170,  against  swear- 
ing, 189;  rat-catcher,  the,  of,  60; 
referred  to,  12  (2),  16(19),  23  (24), 
46  (4),  47,  91  (5  IF.),  109  (15), 
145(2),  155,  178(19) 

jars,  dissensions,  quarrels,  15  (12); 
used  of  war,  174  (3) 

Jarret,  John,  337 

JeafFreson,  John  Cordy,  39,  222, 
248  f.,  283,  299 

Jeremiah  (leremie),  185(1), 188(14) 

jest,  a,  story,  tale,  327  (13),  3.8  (i), 
376,  394,  etc. 

Jew,  a,  prophecy  of,  the,  17 

Jews,  the,  188  (11  f.),  218  (5);  — 's 
trump,  Jew's  harp,  120  (25) 

jigs,   dramatic   farces,   specimens   of. 

reproduced,  i,  132,  173,  207,  217 


Johnson,  Timothy,  206 

Jonas  (Jonah),  66 

Jones,  James,  a  criminal,  249  ff. ;  — 

Jones,  his  father,  253  (14) 
Jonson,  Ben,  49,  66,  189,  437 
Joppa,  67  (2) 
Judas  hand,  a,  26  (6) 
Judgment  Day,  the,  prophecy  of,  17, 

no,  176 
judgments,  strange,  of  God,  examples 

of,    96,    121,    205    (18  fF.).     See 

jury  of  matrons,  a,  283 
Jury  (Jewry),  Old,  London,  281  (17) 

Kalmar,  the  War  of,  ballad  on,  44 

Kate  and  Peg,  376 

Kellet,  Richard,  387 

Kemp,  William,  his  jigs,  i 

kennel,  to  reel  to  the,  192  (4) 

Kent,  great  eater  of,  342 

Kergo,   i.e.    Cargo!   an    exclamation, 

.  192  (4) 
king,  our.   See  Charles  I  or  James  I 

King  of  Spain,  the,  Philip  IV,  456 

kiss,  \os.  for  a,  78 
kitchen-stufF,  32  (4) 
Kittredge,  George  Lyman,  84,   123, 
132,  134,  166,  248,  2^6  n.,  283, 

299'  305,  342,  365;  393 
Knared,  Danish-Swedish  peace  of,  44 
knight,  a,  public  degradation  of,  144; 

wooing  by,  of  a  Bristol  maid,  305 
Knot  of  Fools,  J,  \\ 

lace,  to,  beat,  thrash,  333  (5) 

Ladbrooke,  Thomas,  206 

lady  gay,  a,  308  (27) 

ladyfied,  to  be,  319  (10) 

Lamb's  Conduit,  Holborn,  432 

Lamb,  Dr  John,  276 

landlords,  exorbitant  rents  of,  37  (24) 

larne,  to,  learn,  265  (4) 

Laudun,  Lausdune,  see  Loosduinen 

Layland,  Laaland,  48  (11) 

leading  apes  in  hell,  132 


leaguer,  a,  military  investment,  siege, 

least,  lest,   28   (10),    131    (20),    169 

(24),  etc. 

leawdly,  lewdly,  57  (20) 

Lee  River,  Cork,  151 

leese,  to,  lose,  141  (2) 

Leicestershire,  Bottesford  in,  96 

leidge,  liege,  46  (4) 

Leighe,  Sir  Robert,  39 

Lenten  fare,  35;  —  stuff,  31 

Leonard  of  Lincoln,  ballad  of,  244 

Le  Petit,  Jean  Frangois,  121 

Lestrange,  H.,  on  Amboyna,  200 

Lestrange,  Sir  Nicholas,  1 1 

let,  hindrance,  48  (ii),  296  (6) 

letters-patent  of  James  I,  59 

libidinous,  238  (16) 

Lidia,  Leda,  452  (i) 

lien,  lain,  91  (7) 

life,  to  have  a,  i.e.  'now  there'll  be 

trouble,'  8  (17) 

lights,  false,  ?  opposite  of  weights,  218 

.  (5) 
like  of,  to,  242  (12) 

lily-white  hand,  a,  307  (14),  453  (7) 

Lilly,  Will,  the  astrologer,  443 

limb'd,  to  be,  limned,  177  (11) 

lin,  to,  desist  from,  cease,  213  (i) 

Lincolnshire  Leonard,  ballad  of,  244; 

witches  in  161 9,  96 
line,  rules,  standards,  179  (r) 
Loe  (Lowe),  William,  434  (9) 
lokt,  locked,  227  (16) 
London  Chanticleers,  The,  179 
long,  to,  belong,  14  (7) 
Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth,  309 
Lookes,  John,  455 
Loosduinen     (Losdunen,     Lausdune, 

Laudun,    Lowdon),    365    children 

born  to  a  lady  at,  122  ff. 
loose,  to,  lose,  21  (14),  92  (n),  261 

Louis  XIII,  King  of  France,  24,  293 
louse,  a  body,  brisk  as,  312  (8) 
Lovejoy,  William,  222 
loves,  plural  substantive,  98  (2) 

Loves  of  Hero  and  Leander,  The,  342 
Low  Countries,  the.  See  Netherlands 
Lowdon.   See  Loosduinen 
Lowe,  Michael,  murder  of,  431 
Ludgate,  London,  143  (9),  221  (15) 
lurch,  to,  deceive  or  disappoint,  180 

lurch,  in  the,  at  a  disadvantage,  264 

lurk,  to,  idle,  loaf,  340  (13),  366  (4) 

M.,  L.,  see  Morg.,  LI. 
M.,  W.,  ballad  by,  49  n. 
magpie,  the,  to  make  stagger,  62  (4) 
Mahomet,  21  (14  f.) 
maidenheads,  three,  lost  at  dice,  380 
main,  very  great,  remarkable,  160  (26) 
make,  to,  have  business,  to  do,  8(17) 
male-content,  discontent,  182  (15) 
mamesey-nose,   a,   nose  inflamed    by 

drinking  malmsey,  274  (10) 
man  the  pad,  to,  see  pad 
Manners,   Francis,   Earl  of  Rutland, 

his  sons  bewitched,  96 
Manuscript  Additional,    38,599,   49, 

no,  150,  156,  161.    See  Shanne, 

many  (a)  one,  26  (4),  117  (8) 
marde,  marred,  disfigured,  197  (10) 
Margaret  and  Thomas,  a  jig  of,  173 
Marguerite,  Countess  of  Henneberg, 

her  365  children,  121 
Maria  de'  Medici,  Queen  of  France, 

Marie  de  France,  123 
mark,  a,  coin  worth  about  \y.  \d., 

276,  344  (3) 
marks   of  admittance,    pieces    of  tin 

serving    as     'entrance    tickets,'     a 

porter's  badge,  16  (16) 
Marmion,  Shackerley,  399 
marriage,    general    satire    on,     239; 

murderer's  praise  of,  260;  of  maids 

and  young  men,  advised,  234;  of 

widows  and  youths,  satirized,  229; 

praise  of,  356 
married  woman,  a,  complaint  of,  332 



Marriot,  John,  342 

marry,  interj.,  348  (16) 

Marston,   John,    of   Middlesex    Co., 

robbery  of,  248 
raartialist,  a,  warrior,  171  (3) 
Massinger,  Philip,  104,  144 
mastie  hound,  a,  dialectic  for  mastiff 

hound,  454  (10) 
mat,  a,  bed-covering,  33  (9) 
match,  a,  i.e.  a  slow-match,  56  (10) 
mauger,  notwithstanding,  21  (12) 
maunding,  begging,  394  (2) 
Maurice,  Prince,  of  Nassau,  104 
mazed,  bewildered,  confused,  56  (i  i) 
me,  impersonal  (ethical)  use  of,  264 

Mead,  Dr  Joseph,  277 

Meash,  William,  ballad  by,  49 

meat,food  in  general,  126  (4),  297  (7), 

334  (7  f.),  etc. 
Mensborch,  47  (9) 
Mercurius  Democritus,  443,  449;  — 

Fumigosus,  449 
Merlinus  Anonymus,  43 1 
Merry  Devil  of  Edmonton,  The,  1 1 
Merry  Dr-ollery,  60,  i  r  6 
mice,  children  the  size  of,  130  (16) 
Michell,  Sir  Francis,  ballad  on,  144 
mickle,  much,  332  (i) 
middest,  most  central  part,  157  (9) 
midsummer  day,  328 
milk,  sellers  of,  cry  of,  33  (11) 
milk-white  steed,  306  (6) 
mill-clack,  a,  clapper  of  a  mill,  268 

miraculous  judgments.   See  prodigies 
miscall,  to,  abuse,  75  (9) 
mischief,  evil,  great  harm,  25(1) 
misdoubt,  to,  suspect,  100  (13),  129 

miss,  the,  failure  to  attain,  50  (4) 

mistrusting,  fearing,  22  (17) 

Mitchell.   See  Michell 

mite,  a,  71  (20) 

mo(e),  more,  15  (14)^  4^8  (13) 

mome,  a,  blockhead,  dolt,  339  (9) 

Mompesson,  Sir  Giles,  144 

monopolies,  commissioners  for  the  en- 
forcing of,  144 
Monte  lion,  431 
Moore,  John,  59 
Moorgate,  London,  280  (13) 
more  fairer,  134  (6),  135  (9) 
more  sweeter,  81  (11  fF.),  133  (i  fF.) 
Moreton,  421  n. 
Morg.,  LI.,  ballad  by,  270 
morris-dance,  a,  198  (19),  330  (ro) 
Motley,  John  L.,  on  Barneveld,  104 
mountebank,  a,  62  (5) 
mouse-trap,  a,  37  (25) 
move,  to,  affect,  distress,    168   (14); 
make  angry,  73  (2),  1 86  (2  fF.),  208 
(5);  solicit,  3  (6),  4  (9);  urge,  re- 
quire, 180  (3) 
moyle,  to,  moil,  toil,  318  (3) 
multipled,  multiplied,  272  (3) 
mumchance,  a  dicing  game,  33  (10) 
mumps,  sulks,  mopes,  197  (5) 
Munday,  Antony,  11,  39 
murders,  documents  and  ballads  on, 
24,  84,  104,  222,  249  fF.,  257,  276, 
283,  288,  299,  425,  431 
musckles,  mussels,  3  i  (2) 
muse,  to,  wonder,  237  (i  i),  346  (10), 

musty,  mouldy,  decayed,  197  (6) 
Mutton  Lane,  the  district  of  brothels, 

Nan,  of  Wiltshire,  312  (8  fF.) 

Nantwich,  257 

Nashe,  Thomas,  39 

Neager,  a,  negro,  401  (3) 

neare,  ne'er.  19  (7) 

nearly,  closely  upon,  41  (8) 

neats  tongues,  ox  tongues,  76  (14) 

neck-verses,  249,  254  f. 

neclect,  i.e.  neglect,  22  (21) 

negro,  a,  and  the  rat-catcher,  62  (5). 

See  Neager 
neighbours,  the,   stock   characters   in 

ballads,  74  (5),  87  (16),  100  (12), 

130  (17),  290  (8),  302  (7),  333 

(5)»335  (12) 





neither,  used  of  three,  381  (3) 

ner,  ne'er,  75  (10) 

Netherlands,  the,  104,  121,  139.   See 

Newgate   Prison,   London,   35   (16), 

87(17),  245(8),  286  (10  f.),  303 
(13),  428  (14),  436(17) 

New  Prison,  Clerkenwell,  303  (13) 

New  Year's  gifts,  337 

news,  used  as  a  plural,  156  (i) 

news,  "currants"  of,  a  satire  on,  139 

News  from  Rome,  17 

nibs,  beak  of  a  bird,  162,  165  (19) 

nice,tobe,unwilling,reluctant,  372(7) 

Nicholas,  Mathew,  222 

nick,  to,  put  a  nick,  or  fraudulent  bot- 
tom, in  a  beer-pot,  197  (5),  219  (7) 

Nimingham,  ?  Nimwegen,  104 

nimming,  stealing,  pilfering,  35  (17) 

nine  holes,  a  game,  37  (25) 

Nineveh,  188  (11);  ballad  on  Jonah 
and,  66 

nipe,  variant  of  nip,  to  affect  pain- 
fully, 167  (5) 

nipping,    cant   term    for    stealing    or 
picking  pockets,  42  (14) 

nitty,  infested  with  nits,  filthy,  247  ( 1 9) 

Nobody,  263 

nock,  to,  provide  a  bow  or  arrow  with 
a  nock  or  notch,  197  (9) 

Noe,  Noah,  19  (7) 

Norfolk,  54.   See  Boughton 

Norris,  Sir  John,  417  (8) 

Northamptonshire  witches,  ballad  on, 

Norway,  peace  of,  with  Sweden,  44 

Norwich  (Norwidge),  55,  434  (10) 

nosthrils,  the,  nostrils,  246  (13) 

nought, to  be,thoroughly  evil,  327(1 1) 

Noyes,  Noah's,  17 

noynted,  anointed,  65  (23) 

nye,  ?  colloquial  for  any,  31(2) 

oars,  a  pair  of,  boat  rowed  by  two  men, 

377  (8) 
of,  off,  364  {7.6),  passim 
of  force,  perforce,  258  (6) 


offence-bereaven,  shameless,  27  (8) 

offensive,  inimical,  hostile,  5 1  (7) 

Olden barneveldt,  Johan  Van,  104 

on,  one,  258  (8),  291  (11),  etc. 

one,  on,  36  (20),  37  (23),  300,  etc. 

onion,  an,  a  Welshman  loves,  271 

on's,  of  his,  279  (7),  of  us,  368  (11) 

on't,  ofit,  325  (7) 

or.  .  .or,  either.  .  .or,  loi  (18) 

oreslip,  to  overslip,  slip  away,  231  (6) 

orphant,  an,  28  (11) 

o'th,  i.e.  of  the,  329  {z),  passim 

Otland,  ?  Oland,  47  (9) 

out  alas,  inter].,  8(17) 

out  of  hand,  without  delay,  28  (12), 

overcloys,  surfeits,  satiates,  23  (23) 
overlay,  to,  smother,  suffocate,  352  (9) 
Overreach,  Sir  Giles,  144 
Oxfordshire,  Charles  Rickets  of,  420 

P.,  L.   See  Price,  Laurence 
P.,  M.   See  Parker,  Martin 
paced,  proceeded  to,  walked  to,  64  ( 1 9) 
pack,  to,  go  away,  depart,  446  (7) 
pad,  to  man  the,  thieves'  slang.    See 

pads,  footpads  (cf.  prancers),  43  (17) 
painful,   that   which   causes   pain   or 
death  (of  a  bag  of  poisons),  63  (12) 
Palatine.    See  Frederick  V,   Elector 

palmer,   a,    pilgrim   from   the    Holy 

Land,  2  (r) 
panders,  199  (20),  247  (19) 
papist,  a,  execution  of,  57  (17) 
paratour,  a,  apparitor,  199  (20) 
parill,  apparel,  257  (4) 
Paris,  25  (3),  26  (5),  28  (12),  no 
Parker,  Martin,  170,  239,  343,  450, 
455;   ballads  by,   212,   229,   234, 
276,  293,  299,  309,  327,  328,  336, 
365,    376,    380,   410,   425,   437; 
notes  on  characteristics  of  his  style, 
229,  234,  309,  323,  332;  relations 
of,  with  Laurence  Price,  406,  410, 



Parliament,  the.  High  Court  of,  de- 
grades a  knight,  145 

pas,  ?  33  (9) 

passing  bell,  a  knell,  the  bell  which 
rings  at  the  hour  of  death  to  call  for 
prayers  for  the  passing  soul,  185, 
228  (19) 

patcht  faces,  scarred  or  pimpled,  246 

patents,  under  James  I,  holders  of, 
attack  on,  144 

peace  between  Sweden  and  Denmark 
in  1613,  44 

pedlar,  the  pack  of  a,  116;  tricks  of, 
exposed,  36  (19) 

Peele,  George,  66,  132 

pelfe,  treasure,  possessions,  230  (3), 

305  (3%  309  (0»  etc. 
Pellham,   Edward,   his   pamphlet  on 

Greenland,  386 
Pendleton,  Ellen,  alias  Plodder,  54 
Pennington,  Sir  John,  455,  457  (4) 
pent,  penned,  imprisoned,  260  (13  f.) 
pepper  my  box,  to,  punish  severely, 

trounce,  245  (8) 
Pepys,  Samuel,  comments  on  the  365 

children,  124 
Percy,  Bishop  Thomas,  ballad  MS. 

of,  49,  170,^  173 

petty  treason  discussed,  299 

petuously,  variant  of  piteously,  2 14  (9) 

phifes,  fifes,  75  (12) 

pick-thanks,  flatterers,  sycophants,  183 

Picthatch,  enforced  habitation  of  har- 
lots, 220 (13) 

Pie-corner,  London,  407  (6) 

pies,  cries  of  sellers  of,  33  (11) 

piece,  a,  coin,  359  (14) 

Pierce  Plowman,  generic  terra,  316 

pig-faced  lady,  the,  449 

pigs  nye,  pig's  eye,  454  (10);  as  a 
term  of  affection,  'dear,'  'darling,' 

453  (5) 
pilgrim,  a,  2  (i) 
Pilson,    a    bailiff,    strange   judgment 

shown  on,  96 

pimps,  procurers,  43  (15) 

pin,  being  on  a  merry,  in  a  merry 
humour,  382  (4);  to  —  the  basket, 
207;  to  weigh  it  not  a,  216  (14) 

pinch,  to,  squeeze  money  from,  ex- 
tort, 35(17) 

pinching  as  a  punishment,  204  (12) 

pinde,  pined,  made  to  suffer,  293  (i) 

pinsers,  pinchers,  445  (5) 

pioneers,  labourers,  162,  165  (21) 

pippins,  apples,  33  (10  f.) 

pissle,  pizzle,  440  (8) 

Pittsburgh,  case  of  a  scold  in,  72 

place,  in,  present,  3  (7) 

plague  of  pence,  a,  149  (14) 

Platte,  T.,  ballad  by,  84 

play,  to  be  in,  in  action  (as  of  a  wea- 
pon), 153  (10) 

plays  at  Court  in  161 3,  11,  at  the 
Inner  Temple,  161 2,  40;  boatmen 
carry  lasses  to  the,  32  (7);  penalty 
on  swearing  in,  189.  See  actors, 
jigs,  theatres 

players,  i,  30,  35  (15) 

playhouses,  see  theatres 

pleace,  plaice,  31  (2) 

pleasant,  pleasing,  passim 

pleasure,  to,  i.e.  with  amorous  dal- 
liance, 9  (19) 

ply  the  pot,  to,  drink  steadily,  197  (11) 

poets,  threadbare,  34  (14) 

points,  tagged  laces  used  in  dress,  119 

poisoning,  instances  of  criminal,  299  f. 
poke,  to,  crimp  with  a  poking  stick, 

198  (15) 
poking  stick,  a,  rod  for  stiffening  the 

plaits  of  ruffs,  117  (9) 
pole,  the,  poll,  408  (10) 
policy,  sagacity,  389  (7) 
pomado,   pomade,  scented  ointment, 

118 (10) 
pooch   rings,   pouch-rings,   rings   for 

closing  a  pouch,  33  (9) 
Pope  (Paul  V),   57   (21),    ro6  (3); 

(Urban  VIII),  170 
popery  attacked,  54,  104,  170 



poppies,  juice  of,  62  (5) 
porters,     Elizabethan     company     of, 
ballad  on,   1 1 ;  Parker's  praise  of, 

Portingall,  a,  Portuguese,  206 

Post,  The,  ballad  signed  by,  143 

post-boy,  ballad  on  a,  139 

pottle,  a,  pot  holding  about  two  quarts, 

Potts,  Thomas,  96 

pouch,  the,  scrotum,  63  (13) 

Powder  Plot,  the,  of  1606,  108  (10) 

Powell,  John,  206 

prancers,  slang  term  for  mounted  rob- 
bers (cf.  pads),  43  (17) 

precise,  puritanical,  326  (10) 

pregnancy,  an  execution  deferred  be- 
cause of,  58  (22  f.);  pleading  of, 
disallowed,  283 

presaging,  forecasting,  indicating  in 
advance,  52  (11),  156  (4) 

president,  a,  precedent,  330  (13) 

pressing  in  chains,  203  (9) 

prest,  ready  for  action,  419  (13) 

Preston,  battle  of  birds  near,  161 

pretty,  artful,  clever,  323  (i) 

Price,  Abel,  206 

Price,  Laurence,  ballads  by,  399,  406, 
443'  449'  455;  facts  about,  443; 
rivalry  of,  with  Martin  Parker,  406, 

Price,  Richard,  ballad  on,  222 

prick,  a,  pin,  289  (2) 

priest  hanged  in  161 6,  84 

prime,  the,  beginning,  springtide  of 
life,  53(15),  138  (18),  438  (I) 

printed,  striped  with  lashes  from  a 
whip,  43  (20) 

Printers,  ballad,  referred  to:  Aide, 
John,  185;  Blackmore,  Edward, 
1 79 ;  Blackwall,  William,  3 1 ;  Charl- 
ton, Geoffrey,  3 1 ;  Coles,  Francis, 
30,  185,  316,  332;  Gilbertson, 
William,  30;  Gosson,  Henry,  132, 
212,  234,  300;  Gosson,  Thomas, 
i;  Griffith,  William,  66;  Grove, 
Francis,    270,     309,     323,    455; 

Harper,  Richard,  288;  Lacy,  Alex- 
ander, 66;  Pavier,  Thomas,  30; 
Stafford,  John,  455;  Trundle, 
John,  60,  283;  Vere,  Thomas,  30; 
Wright,  Cuthbert,  166 

Printers,  ballad,  works  by,  here  repro- 
duced:  A.,  E.  (Aide,  Edward),  66, 
116,  160,  247;  B.,  G.  (Blackwall, 
George),  356;  Barley,  William,  24, 
29;  Barnes,  John,  103;  Birch,  Philip, 
95;  Blackmore,  Edward,  376; 
Clarke,  John,  165;  Coles,  Francis, 
165,  175,  ?  185,  206,  238,  255, 
275,  288,  308,  309,  369,  398,  430; 
Creede,  Thomas,  r6;  E.,  G.  (Ed- 
wards, George,  or  Elde,  George), 
103,  419;  F.,  M.  (Flesher,  Miles?), 
454;  Gosson,  Henry,  43,  48,  88, 
131,  138,  184,211,282,349,  350, 
375,  392,  406;  Grismond,  John, 
3 1 6,  3  8  5 ;  Grove,  Francis,  229,  304, 
332,  337>  3641  410;  L,  W.  (Jones, 
William?),  104,  i  54;  L.,  T.  (Lam- 
bert, Thomas),  228,436,442,454; 
Langley,  Thomas,  436;  M.,  A. 
(Matthewes,  Augustine),  263;  P., 
G.  (Potter,  George,  or  Purslowe, 
George),  72,  145;  P.,  T.  (Pavier, 
Thomas?),  23;  Rand,  Samuel,  459; 
Trundle,  John,  54,  65,  143,  195, 
196,  221,  243,  262;  Trundle,  Mrs 
Margaret,  283;  W.,  L  (White, 
John,  or  Wright,  Jr.,  John),  10,  38, 
115,  169,  405;  White,  John,  49, 78, 
165,  175;  Wright,  Cuthbert,  323; 
Wright,  Edward,  178;  Wright, 
John,  Jr.,  2i6(?),  247,  298, 405(?), 
420,  443 

prittle  prat,  trivial  talk,  37  (25) 

proceeding  dangers,  those  that  are  ad- 
vancing, going  on,  58  (23) 

prodigal  child,  247  (20) 

prodigies.  See  birds,  wonderful  battles 
of;  birth,  a  wonderful;  eaters,  great; 
fish;  Germany;  judgments,  strange, 
of  God;  Russell,  John;  Skinker, 



professors,  used  of  Protestant  Chris- 
tians, 1 06  (3) 

promoter,  a,  one  whose  business  it  was 
to  denounce  offenders  against  the 
law,  143  (9) 

proper,  handsome,  38  (26),  79  (2), 
80  (7),  passim 

prophecies,  17,  no 

Proverbs:  Beggar,  a,  on  horseback 
rides  to  the  gallows,  241  (9);  Brew 
as  one  bakes,  to,  241  (7);  Broken 
staff,  a,  to  trust,  167  (8);  Fool's  bolt 
is  soon  shot,  a,  316;  Long  runs  that 
never  turns,  420;  Marry  in  haste, 
repent  at  leisure,  333  (4);  Monday 
is  Sunday's  fellow,  445  (3);  Money 
makes  a  man,  362  (9);  Need  makes 
the  old  wife  trot,  365;  Penny,  a,  to 
serve  one's  need,  447  (14);  Strike 
while  the  iron  is  hot,  229;  Tailor,  a, 
cuts  three  sleeves  of  one  gown,  32 
(6),  412  (7);  When  a  man's  down, 
the  world  cries  down,  411  (3) 

prune,  to,  adorn  oneself  with  dress, 

puling,  whining,  sickly,  344  (3) 

punishments.  See  Amboyna;  apes,  to 
lead;  beheading;  Bridewell;  burn- 
ing alive;  cucking;  hanging;  knight, 
a,  public  degradation  of;  sheet,  a, 
to  stand  in;  stocks,  the;  whipping; 
wooden  horse 

punks  and  panders,  41  (9) 

puppet-plays,  49,  66 

purchase,  a,  advantage  gained,  403 

purst,  to  be,  provided  with  money, 

put  down,  to,  surpass,  excel,  328  (2) 

quaff,  to,  drink  deeply,  27 1  ( i ),  394  ( i ) 

quarter,  a,  place  of  stay,  dwelling- 
place,  320  (14) 

quarter  day,  day  on  which  quarterly 
charges  fall  due,  142  (6) 

quarteridge,  quarterage,  quarterly  pay- 
ment, 13  (7) 

queans,  jades,  harlots,  passim 

queen,  our.   6'<'^  Anne  of  Denmark  or 

Henrietta  Maria 
quitted,  acquitted,  226  (12) 
quoine,  variant  of  coin,  373  (9) 

Rabbles,  a  contemptuous  term  (plural 
of  Rabbi),  172  (6) 

rack,  to,  as  a  punishment,  203  (7); 
to  increase  unfairly,  219  (10) 

racking  rent,  i.e.  rack-rent,  extortion- 
ate rent,  182  (15) 

rag'd,  enraged,  258  (8) 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  execution  of, 
ballad  on,  89 

ram,  the,  eating  of,  328 

Ramsay,  Allan,  132 

Ramsay,  Ephraim,  206 

ranging,  i.e.  to  be  unfaithful,  7  (14) 

rank,  gross,  lustful,  196  (3) 

rape,  Sandys  hanged  for,  249  ff. 

rashing  hand,  i.e.  hasty  or  forcible, 
261  (18) 

rat,  drowned,  like  a,  76  (16) 

rat-catcher,  a  Jacobean,  60 

rat-knawn  hole,  i.e.  the  source  of  his 
venereal  disease,  65  (19) 

ratter,  a,  64  (14) 

RavaJllac,  Francois,  24 

ray,  array,  152  (5),  153  (10) 

ready  prest,  fully  prepared,  419  (13) 

rear,  to,  originate,  bring  about,  48(11) 

rebatoes,  stiff  collars,  118  (15) 

recall,  to,  recant,  deny,  102  (23) 

Records,  Charles,  ballad  by  (.?),  420 

red-coated  cheese,  infected  with  'red- 
coats' or  mites,  141  (2) 

regard,  reputation,  253  (13),  257  (i), 

rent,  to,  rend,  158  (16),  284  (2) 

rents,  exorbitant,  attacked,  37  (24), 
182  (15),  219(10) 

require,  to,  entreat,  50  (4) 

Rett,  Henry,  387 

Revenge,  revenge!  86  (7) 

revengement,  99  (9) 

Rhe,  Isle  of,  293 




rhewmes,  rheums,  117  (6) 
Richard,  a  farmer,  jig  of,  i 
Rickets,  Charles,  ballad  by,  420 
Rider,  T.,  ballad  by,  207 
roar,  to,  riot,  dissipate,  42  (13),  271 

(i),  etc. 
roaring    boys,    description    of,     245 

(8  ff.);  punishment  of,  at  Bridewell, 

robbery,    highway,    documents    and 

ballads  on,  248  fF.,  431 

Robin,  the  annyseedwater-seller,  443 

Robin  Conscience,  406 

Robin  Goodfellow,  452  (2) 

Robinson,  Fred  Norris,  212 

Rochelle,  La,  the  fall  of,  293 

roe,  satirical  term  for  a  woman,  75 

Rogers,  Alfred,  24 

rook,  a,  swindler,  cheater,  246  (14) 

rooking  cunning,  dishonesty,  395  (2) 

rore,  see  roar 

roseaker,  rosaker,  a  poison,  62  (4) 

Ross,  Henry,  Lord,  bewitched,  ballad 

on,  96 
Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel,  96 
round,  a,  dance,  443 
Rous,  John,  Diary,  276,  299,  386 
Rowland,  John  and,  a  jig,  217 
Rowlands,  Samuel,  316 
Rowley,  William,  actor,  30 
rowling,  rolling,  79  (4) 
Rowse,  William,  59 
royal  standard,  the,  standard  star,  388 

rozen,  rosin,  287  (13) 

Rudston,  Honour,  criminal  assault  on, 

by  Sandys,  249 
Rumford  (Romford),  Essex,  33  (8) 
running,   here's  no,   i.e.  no  help  or 

alternative,  389  (7) 
Russell,  John,  sinking  of,  in  the  earth, 

Rutland,  Earl  of,  see  Manners,  Francis 

Sadler,  John,  206 

St  Denis  Abbey,  France,  no 

St  Giles  in  the  Fields,  eating  a  ram  at, 

St  Hugh,  patron  of  shoemakers,  a  son 
of  "the  king  of  Powis,  a  noble  Brit- 
taine"  (cf.  F.  O.  Mann's  Deloney, 
p.  72),  445  (4);  his  bones,  i.e.  shoe- 
maker's tools,  445  (5).  See  Crispine 
St  Katherine's,  London,  338  (3) 
St  Martin's   beads,  imitation  jewels, 

120  (25) 
St  Paul's  Cathedral,  London,  139 
St  Peter's  Chalfont,  Bucks.,  prodigy  at, 

370  , 
St  Toolies,  ?  corruption  of  St  Olave's, 

Salins,  France,  r6i 
Salomon,  see  Solomon 
salt  sprinkled  on  a  body  after  whip- 
ping, 204  (10),  222 
salude  (salued),  salved,  13  (5),  28  (12) 
Sandys,   George,   Sir   George,   Lady 

Susanna,  ballad  on,  248 
save  and  see,  save  and  protect,  306(10) 
scanting,  economizing,  194  (7) 
scath,  injury,  46  (5) 
scoff,  a,  jest,  163  (4) 
scold,   a,    cucking   of,    72;    husband 

punishes,  209  (i  i  ff.) 
sconce,  a,  small  fort,  401  (4) 
scooper-holes,  scupper-holes,  458  (9) 
score, indebtedness,  340  (16), 43  5  (13) 
score,  to,  to  be  'chalked  up,'  to  buy 

drinks  on  credit,  407  (7),  413  (8) 
scorn,  to  take,  feel  indignant,  8  (18); 

a  — ,  reproach,  shame,  85(2) 
scrapt,  i.e.  to  scrape  an  acquaintance, 

244  (2) 
scrue  (screw),  to,  oppress,  371  (3) 
scuse,  excuse,  8(18) 
sea  horses,  walruses,  390  (12) 
Sedley  (Sidley),  Sir  William,  of  Ayles- 

ford,  Kent,  345  (6) 
see,  to,  intrans.,  appear,  be  seen,  113 

seidge,  a,  siege,  46  (4) 
sergeant,  a,  minor  policeman,  219  (9) 
serude,  served,  15  (12) 



Sestos,  50  (2) 

Severn  River,  212  (i) 

Shakespeare,   i,   18,   124,    132,  229, 

370,  437 

Shank,  John,  actor,  30 

Shanne,  Richard,  of  Yorkshire,  his 
commonplace  book.  See  MS.  Ad- 
ditional 38,599 

shark,  to,  swindle,  369  (15) 

sharking  rook,  a,  swindling  rascal,  413 

Sharocke,  George,  206 

sharpers,  London,  ballad  on,  244 

Sheba,  Queen  of,  350 

sheet,  to  stand  in  a,  as  a  punishment 

for  lechery,  320  (12) 
shepsternells(shepstares),  starlings,  i  56 
Sherwood,    Thomas,    alias    Country 

Tom,  432 
shilling,   high   purchasing   power  of, 

under  James  I,  189 
Shillock,  Caleb,  prophecy  of,  1 7 
Shipston,  422  n. 
Skirburn   Ballads,    The.     See    Clark, 

shirk,  to  live  by  the,  act  of  shirking, 

cheating,  366  (5) 
shirking  rook,  cheating  rascal,  446  (9) 
Shirley,  James,  189 
shoes,  blacking  of,  described,  34  (13) 
shoemaker,  a,  the  heir  of  Kings,  408 

(12),  445  (4).   See  Crispine 
shoemaker,  a,  and  his  jesting  with  a 

halter,  395  (3  fF.);  merry  round  of, 

shoot  in  the  dark,  to,  act  aimlessly,  9 

shot,  a,   bill,  charges,   366  (6),   368 

(11),  etc. 
shot-free,  without  paying  one's  charges, 

shroud,  to,  protect,  shelter,  262  (21), 

shuffle-boord,  shovel-board,  a  game, 

Shylock,  on  the  origin  of  the  name  of, 


sice,  a,  the  six  (of  dice),  357  (5),  384 

Sidley.   See  Sedley 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  417  (8) 

sieuet,  civet,  79  (3) 

Silesia,  battle  of  birds  in,  i  50 

silly,  innocent,  helpless,  passim 

Simon  and  Susan,  a  jig  of,  133 

Simon  Certain,  316 

simples'  guise,  the,  manner  or  habit 

of  the  simple-minded,  22  (20) 

sincke  cater  sice,  five-four-six  (of  dice), 

sink,  to,  cause  to  sink,  37  (22) 

sinner,  a,  the  dream  of,  a  ballad,  176 

sisers  (sizers),  scissors,  300,  302  (10) 

sith,  since,  231  (6),  etc. 

sizes,  assizes,  87(17),  102(22),  291  (9) 

sizing   of  bread,   assizing,   regulating 

the  weight  by  a  standard,  407  (8) 

Skinker,  Tannakin,  a  hog-faced  lady, 

skip-jack,  shallowed-braincd,  241  (7) 

Skyte,  Henry,  39 

sledge,  see  hurdle 

sleights,  tricks,  feats,  183  (19),  344(2) 

slide,  to,  vary,  fail  to  observe,  134  (4) 

sliding,  unreliable,  402  (7) 

slinging,  ^  used  of  long,  swinging 
strides,  33  (8) 

small,  inferior,  or  weak, drink,  339  (9), 
408  (11) 

Small-beer,  Drawer,  444 

smart,  a,  pain,  sorrow,  215  (10), 

Smithfield,  London,  35  (16),  303 
(13);  fair  of,  the,  64  (19);  horse- 
market  in,  236  (9);  horse-thieves  of, 
220  (14);  women  burned  in,  84, 
284,  288,  299,  301  (3) 

Smithson,  Samuel,  443 

smother,  to,  hush  up,  suppress  mention 
of,  338(6) 

Smyth,  Richard,  Obituary,  276,  299, 

snake  swallows  young  to  protect  them, 




soap,  Turkish,  119  (18) 

Sodom,  155,  187  (9  f.) 

sole,  soul,  168  (16) 

Solomon,  the  judgment  of,  350 

something,  somewhat,  74  (5) 

somewhither,  242  (11) 

sort   of,   a,    company   (used    of  high 

rank),  147  (7) 
sotted,  besotted,  433  (7) 
sound,  to,  swoon,  359  (11) 
souse,  pickled  pig,  142  (7) 
Southwark,  an  apprentice  murdered 

in,  223.   See  Bankside 
Spain,  naval  battle  of,  with  Holland, 

in    1639,   455;   war  of,   with  the 

Netherlands  in  1621,  139 
Spanish  tragedy,  a,  in  1639,455 
sparks,  gallants,  271  (2),  394  (i) 
speed,  to  make,  to  have  good  fortune, 

264  (3) 
spells,  the,  of  witches,  96 

Spenser,  John,  of  Chester,  256 

spermaceti,  441  (12) 

spight    (spite),    a,    annoying    matter, 

calamity,  86  (9),  363  (18) 
spill,  to,  ruin,  destroy,  321  (17) 
Spinola,  139,  141 
spittle,    a,    spital,    specif.    Bridewell, 

41  (5),  245(8),  318(4) 
spoiled  (spoyled),  despoiled,  46  (3); 

destroyed,  389  (ro) 
sport,  amorous  dalliance,  50  (2) 
Sportive  fVit,  60 
sprats,  31  (2) 
spread,  to  be,  by  racking  one's  body, 

203  (7) 
spurn,  a,  blow,  kick,  225  (7) 
spurn  point,  a  game,  37  (25) 
spurned,  kicked,  227  (18) 
standing,  a,  the  station  (of  a  pedlar's 

stall),    120   (26);   stopping,  delay, 

388(5)    . 
stares,     starlings,     battles     of,      150, 

states,    the,    of    France,    the    States 

General,   26  (4);  personal  condi- 
tion, 28  (11) 

stay,  a,  delay,  158  (13);  condition  or 
state,  1 84  (20) 

stay,  to,  appease  the  appetite,  32  (7); 
delay,  26  (6),  159  (24);  desist, 
cease,  106  (6);  stop,  5  (ir),  134 
(6);  stopped,  seized,  27  (8),  142 
(7);  withhold,  23  (22) 

stay  in,  to,  remain  unchanged  (of  a 
lamp-light),  52  (10) 

stayed,  to  be,  confined,  378  (16) 

stealth,  a,  theft,  253  (12),  273  (6) 

stiff,  strong,  stalwart,  169  (22);  adv., 
192  (4) 

stil'd,  distilled,  117  (7) 

stile,  style,  title,  149  (13),  where  the 
title  meant  is  "arrant  knave" 

stitch,  to  go  through,  to  complete,  to 
prosecute  to  the  end,  411  (4) 

stoates,  European  ermine,  62  (3) 

stock,  a,  tree,  112  (8) 

stocks,  the,  used  for  swearers,  1 89 

Stoke,  a/ias  Francis,  Katherine,  300 

stool,  see  close-stool 

store,  abundance,  abundantly,  i  (3), 
4  (8),  37  (24).  etc. 

stoutness,  rudeness,  15  (14) 

Strafford,  Earl  of  (Thomas  Went- 
worth),  425 

strangling  twist,  a,  halter  for  hanging 
criminals,  103  (24) 

street-cries  of  London,  30 

street-walkers,  tirade  against,  376 

strooke,  struck,  87  (14) 

Stourbridge  (Sturbridge)  Fair,  Cam- 
bridgeshire, 65  (23) 

suborned,  251  (4) 

subtle-pated,  171  (2) 

sugar-plum,  a,  40  (3) 

surfetes,  surfeits,  disorders  due  to  ex- 
cessive eating,  167  (11) 

Susan  and  Simon,  a  jig  of,  133 

suspect,  a,  suspicion,  357  (3) 

swarue,  to,  swerve,  68  (8) 

sweale,  to,  swill,  drink  greedily,  19-? 

swearing,  statute  against,  1 89 

Sweauian,  Swedish,  46  (6) 



Sweden,  peace  of,  in  1615,  with  Den- 
mark, 44 
sweet,  pleasing  to  the  taste,  331  (16) 
sweeting,  a,  dear  one,  5  (13),  82  (17) 
swell,  to,  become  pregnant,  265  (6) 
swim  in  silk  and  gold,  to,  191  (2) 
swines,  338  (2) 
swine's-faced  gentlewoman,  the,  449 

tables,  backgammon,  357  (t;) 

tabor  and  fife,  to  dance  after,  i.e.  to  be 

married,  235  (3) 
Talbot,  the,  an  alehouse,  338  (3) 
tallents,  talons,  152  (6) 
tane,  taken,  80  (7),  423  (9),  436  (16) 
taplash,  dregs  of  liquor,  very  stale  beer, 

tattle,  to,  prattle,  35  (16),  360  (15) 
taverns,  methods  of  sharpers  in,  de- 
scribed, 245 
Taylor,  John,  the  Water  Poet,  i  r,  342, 

teens,  the,  136  (12) 
tel,  till,  224(4) 
Temple,  Sir  Peter,  249 
tester    (testern,    teston),    a,    sixpence, 

three  slips  for,  270 
Teyborne.   See  Tyburn 
than,  then,  427  (8),  passim 
the,  i.e.  they,  281  (17) 
theatres,  the  Bull,   30,   35   (15);  the 

Curtain,  30,  35  (15);  the  Fortune, 

277, 280  (10);  the  Globe,  the  Swan, 

35  (15) 
theies,  i.e.  the  eyes,  79  (4) 

theile  (thele),  they'll,  13  (6),  362  (13) 

then,  than,  passim 

there,  their,  37  (23  f.),  etc. 

Thirty  Years'  War,  ballads  on,  41  5 

Thomas  and  Margaret,  a  jig  of,  173 

thorough  (thorow),  through,  103  (23), 

169,  326  (9) 
thought,  i.e.  though  it,  401  (3) 
thrasher,  a,  one  who  separates  grain  from 

straw  by  beating  with  a  flail,  272  (5) 
three-cornered  night-cap,  the,  gallows, 

247  (19) 

three  hundred  sixty-five  children   at 

one  birth,  ballad  on,  1 2 1 
thrids,  threads,  40  (i) 
throw,  see  thorough 
Timoneda,  Juan  de,  121 
tinder-boxes,  41  (5) 
Tinker  of  Tiirvey,  The,  60 
title,  to,  entitle,  50  (i) 
to  (too),  two,  31    (3),   167  (9),  289 

(3),  390(12) 
toast,  a,  browned  bread  put  into  wine 

or  ale,  274  (10) 
toasts  drown'd  in  ale,  246  (14) 
tobacco,    246   (12  f.),    394   (i),    396 

(5  f.),  409(15) 
Tomson,  Emanuel,  206 

too,  see  to 

too  too,  used  absolutely  for  very  much 

or  exceedingly,  8  (18),  433  (6) 

toot, /.^.  to  it,  231  (7),  233  (13) 

tother,  269(15),  327  (12),  335  (13) 

Tothill  Street,  London,  284  n. 

tottered,  variant  of  tattered,  245  (9  f.) 

touch,  to  keep,  keep  faitli,  373  (ro), 

395  (2) 
Tourval,  M.  de,  248 

Tower,  the,  of  London,  91  (7  ff.),  144 

Tower  Hill,  the,  news  from,  376 

Towerson,  Captain  Gabriel,  205  (i  5), 

toying,  amorously  dallying,  237  (12) 
toys,  trifles,  childish  amusements,  35 

(16),  330(10) 
translator,  a,  low-class  cobbler,   409 

trau ell,  travail,  13  (4) 
travailed,  travelled,  451 
tray,  trey,  three  (of  dice),  383  (7  f.) 
treason,  petty,  discussion  of,  299 
trice,  in  a,  246  (r  5),  318  (3) 
trim,  to,  furnish,  equip,  35  (18) 
tript,  to  go  on  foot,  63  (12) 
trot,  to,  go  at  a  rapid  gait,  fig.  to  work, 

365  ff. 
trot,  a,  old  woman,  318  (6) 
troth,  truth,  8  ( 1 7  f.) 
Trott,  Anthony,  299 



truculent,  430  (19) 

trull,  a,  435  (16) 

Trump,  Admiral,  of  Holland,  455 

truncheon,  a,  cudgel,  436  (18) 

truss,  a,  bundle,  pack,  37  (23) 

trusting,  selling  on  credit,  413  (8) 

tuppe,  a,  ram,  329  (6) 

Turk,  the,  prophecy  about,  21  (14); 
mentioned,  188  (13) 

Turnbull,  220  (13),  433  (6);  — 
jades,  harlots,  191  (2) 

turner,  a,  one  who  works  (turns)  with 
a  lathe,  a  joiner,  85 

Turner,  William,  ballad  by,  30 

Turn-gain  Lane,  73  (3) 

turtle,  the,  dove,  242  (12) 

tut,  inter].,  9  (20) 

tutch,  see  touch 

twins,  the  mother  of,  insults  to,  punish- 
ment for,  123 

twist,  a,  rope,  103  (24) 

Tyburn,  220  (14);  hangings  at,  84, 
250.  425;  to  bear  a  load  to,  to  be 
hanged,  32  (5);  to  leap  a  leap  at, 
to  be  hanged,  38  (26);  to  pack  to, 
446  (7);  —  ague,  the  convulsions 
that  followed  hanging,  37  (26) 

tyres,  attire,  dresses,  118  (15) 

vaine,  vein,  desire,  148  (11) 
vaver,  to,  ?  misprint  for  waver,  268  w. 
vbbraide,  to,  upbraid,  285  (4) 
venereal  disease,  treatment  of,  ballad 

on,  60 
venson,  venison,  33^  (H)»  33^  (4) 
venter,  to,  venture,  117  (5),  329  (7), 

ventures,  t.e.  venture  us  (for  ourselves), 

42  (h) 

Vere,  Sir  Francis,  417  (8) 
victual(s),  294  (2),  297  (7),  453  (8) 
vild(e),  vile,  27  (8),  247  (20),  253 

(14),  etc.;  vildly,  75  (9),  257  (4) 
vital  breath,  21  (12) 
vive  le  rot,  29  (13) 
under  rate,  an,  inferior  to  the  standard, 

362  (4) 

unguent,  an,  ointment,  119  (17) 

unpartial,  171  (3) 

unpossible,  345  (7) 

unrespected,  unintentional,  thought- 
less, 259 (10) 

vpont,  upon  it,  53  (12) 

Vpse-freeze,  in  the  Friesian  manner, 
141  (2) 

vre,  use,  practice,  182  (13) 

Urokin,  a  Dutchwoman,  452  (4) 

usual,  usually,  80  (9) 

usury,  attacks  on,  36  (21),  37  (22), 
143  (9)'  i55»  188(11),  218(4) 

Vtreicht,  Utrecht,  104,  123 

Vulcan,  452  (i) 

W,,  W.,  News  from  Rome,  17 

wail,  to,  bewail,  219  (9) 

waits,  weights,  false,  condemned,  36 


Wallen,  Anne,  murderess,  84 

Wapping,  338  (6) 

War  between  Denmark  and  Sweden, 
44;  between   Spain  and   Holland, 

Ward,  Sir  Adolphus  W.,  18,  104 

Ware,  Herts.,  139 

Waring,  Robert,  124 

water,  stuffing  one  with,  as  a  punish- 
ment, 204  (11) 

waters,  strong,  restoratives,  359  (11) 

water-man,  a,  boatman,  32  (7) 

Watling  Street,  the  widow  of,  78 

weaned,  to  be,  190  (i) 

weare,  were,  16  (16,  possibly  ware 
here),  50  (3),  52  (11),  passim 

Webber,  William,  206 

Webster,  John,  229,  270,  300 

weed  away,  to,  58  (27) 

welflet  {?  walfleet,  wainfleet)  oysters, 

31  (2) 
welladay,  sad  sobs  of,  223  (i) 
Welsh,  ballad  in,  212;  the  —  lovers, 

Welshman,  a,  love  of,  for  an  onion, 

Westminster,  145  (i);  Old  Palace  of. 





beheading  at,  89;  woman  burned 

in,  284(1),  289  (4) 
Wetherall,  John,  206 
whale,  the,  and  Jonah,   69  (12);  a 

great,  caught  at  Greenwich  in  1658, 

wheelbarrow,  a  scold  carried  in  a,  76 


when  as,  when,  73  (3),  285  (5),  etc. 

where  as,  where,  6  (14),  15  (12),  50 

(3)»  H5  (0»  291  (9);  whereupon, 

whifF,  a,  draught  of  wine,  168  (16) 

whipper,  the,  40  (2) 

whipping  as  a  punishment,  204  (10), 


whipping-cheer,  ballad  on,  39 

white,    the,    bull's-eye    of   a    target, 

257  (3) 
White  Lion,  the,  223  ,^. 

Whitelocke,  Sir  Bulstrode,  276 

white-pot,  a,  346  (9) 

whoot,  variant  of  hoot,  192  (5) 

wich,  see  witch 

Wicked  Will,  his  sauce  to  Turner,  31 

widows,  satires  on,  229,  235,  239,  263 

wife,  a.  Nobody  on  choosing,  263 

Willoughby  de  Eresby,  Lord,  417  (8) 

Wiltshire,  a  father  in,  beguiles  his  son, 

wimble,  a,  gimlet,  272  (4) 
Windebank,  Sir  Francis,  248 
Windham   (Wymondham),   Norfolk, 

burning  of,  54 
Windsor,    Mr    Holt    of,    murdered, 

432;  Woolner  of,  342 
winion,  with  a,  272  (5) 

winters,  sixteen  (used  of  age),  312  (9) 

Wise,  John,  387 

wisp,  a,  handful  of  straw,  the  sign  of 

a  scold  or  "a  shameless  callet"  (cf. 

3  Henry  VI,  11,  ii,  144)  76  (13) 
wit,  a  countryman's  attempt  to  buy, 

witch,  a,  male  conjurer,  279  (6) 
witches,  ballad  and  pamphlets  on,  96 
woe  worth,  interj.,  may  woe  come  to, 

55(4)»303  (10.426(5) 
Wood,  Nicholas,  342 
wooden  horse,  a,  to  ride,  i.e.  to  ride  a 

rail,  14  (9) 
Woolner  of  Windsor,  342 
words,  to  eat  one's,  334  (9) 
worser,  79  (4)»  87  (13) 
Worwell,  Cheshire,  438 
wrack,  to,  rack,  torment,  371  (3) 
wrackt,  wrecked,  46  (3) 
wrested  (of  laws),  misapplied,  falsely 

administered,  146  (3) 
Wright,  Jane,  murder  of,  249 
Wright,  Robert,  248 
wrought,  worked  (like  iron),  230  (2) 
w*^,  with,  346  (9) 
Wymondham.   See  Windham 

ye  (yee),  the,  106  (3),  167  (6),  381 

(4),  etc. 
ympes,  see  imp 

Yonge,  Walter,  diary  of,  no,  i  50 
yonkers,  younkers,  young  people,  402 

(7),  452(3) 
y\  that,  241  (10),  301  (2),  345  (7), 

y",  thou,  208  (i) 


PR      A  Pepysian  garland